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The Writings 



OF 



Sir Thomas Browne 




RELIGIO MEDICI 

A LETTER TO A FRIEND 

CHRISTIAN MORALS 

URN-BURIAL 

AND OTHER 
PAPERS 



SIR THOMAS BROWNE, Kt. M. D. 




BOSTON 

TICKNOR AND FIELDS 
I 862 



fff33^7 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, by 

TICK NOR AND FIELDS, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



2 iTT 



y 



Cambridge, Mass. : 

Welch, Bigelow, and Company. 

Printers to the University, 



TO 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, M. D 

AUTHOR OF "the AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE," 



JOHN BROWN, M. D 



AUTHOR OF " RAB AND HIS FRIENDS, 



2r|)fs Volume 

OF THE ELOQUENT WRITINGS 

OF AN OLD ENGLISH PHYSICIAN 

IS INSCRIBED BY THE EDITOR. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 



Biographical Sketch of the Author . vii 



Religio Medici i 

A Letter to a Friend .... 157 

True Christian Morals . . . 183 

Hydriotaphia. Urn-Burial . . . 275 

From the Garden of Cyrus . . 353 

From Vulgar Errors 375 

Fragment on Mummies .... 409 

On Dreams 416 

Letters 424 

Resolves 430 





Biographical Sketch of 

The Author. 



OR a more detailed account of the 
life of Sir Thomas Browne, the 
reader is referred to his Biography 
by Dr. Johnson, and the Supple- 
mentary Memoir by Simon Wilkin, Esq., both 
included in the London edition of the Complete 
Works, in four volumes. Coleridge, Lamb, 
Hazlitt, Hallam, Bulwer, and other distinguished 
writers, have put on record their estimate of 
his genius, and Cowper v^^as so imbued with 
the spirit and beauty of the thought in the 
Religio Medici and other writings of Browne, 
that numerous resemblant passages in the Task 
have been frequently pointed out. The present 
Editor will content himself with giving a few 
dates of the principal occurrences In the author's 
hfe, and adding to these some interesting pas- 
sages written by one who was for thirty years 



viii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

Sir Thomas Browne's Intimate friend. It Is to 
be regretted that Mr. Whitefoot did not carry 
out his intention of writing an extended memoir 
of his well-beloved companion, for what he has 
left to us Is conceived in so attractive a manner, 
we cannot but lament his original design was 
not fully completed. How much he valued Sir 
Thomas's friendship may be gathered from his 
remark, that he " ever esteemed it a special fa- 
vour of Divine Providence to have had a more 
particular acquaintance with this excellent per- 
son, for two thirds of his life, than any other 
man that is now (1682) left alive." 

Sir Thomas Browne was born in London on 
the 19th of October, 1605, and died on his 
birthday, at Norwich, in 1682. His father 
came of an ancient Upton family, in Cheshire, 
and enjoyed a good name as an honest mer- 
chant. A daughter of Sir Thomas has recorded 
of this worthy man an act very touching In its 
pious significance. She says, In a memorandum 
in her own hand, appended to a brief account of 
her distingushed parent, "his father used to open 
his breast when he was asleep, and kiss it in 
prayers over him, as 't Is said of Origen's father, 
that the Holy Ghost would take possession 
there." This excellent person dying when his 
son Thomas was yet a lad, the boy was de- 
frauded by one of his guardians, but found his 



OF THE AUTHOR. ix 

way to the school of Winchester for his educa- 
tion. In 1623 he went to Oxford, entering as a 
gentleman-commoner, and graduated from the 
newly named Pembroke College in 1626-7. 
Turning his attention to physic after taking his 
degree of Master of Arts, he practised in his 
profession some time in Oxfordshire. He after- 
wards travelled into France and Italy, visiting 
Montpellier and Padua, then celebrated schools 
of physic, and, returning home through Holland, 
was created Doctor of Medicine at Leyden. In 
1634 he is supposed to have returned to London, 
and to have written his " Religio Medici " * 
during the next year. This celebrated treatise 
was not printed till 1642, when, without his 
consent, the book was published. It at once 
attracted great attention, and was criticised in 
a volume by Sir Kenelm Digby, " who,'* says 
Lord Clarendon, " was a person very eminent 
and notorious throughout the whole course of 
his life, from his cradle to the grave." The 
" Religio Medici " was very soon translated into 
Latin, Italian, German, Dutch, and French. 

Dr. Browne settled in Norwich, where his 
practice became very extensive, many patients 

* "This book paints certain parts of my moral and intellectual 
being (the best parts, no doubt) better than any other book I 
have ever met with j — and the style is throughout delicious." — 
S. T. Coleridge. 



X BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

coming from a distance to consult so eminent a 
physician, now made more famous by the pub- 
lication of so admirable a book. In 1641, he 
married Mrs. Mileham, a most excellent lady, 
whose graces both of mind and body well fitted 
her to become the partner of her distinguished 
husband. They lived together forty-one years, 
and with their ten children formed a household 
singularly happy in all its relations. In 1646 
Dr. Browne printed his " Enquiries into Vulgar 
and Common Errors"; in 1658, his "Hydriota- 
phia, or Urn Burial," adding to the treatise his 
" Garden of Cyrus." His other writings were 
published after his death, many of them being 
left corrected for the press by his own hand. 
Charles the Second conferred on him the honor 
of knighthood in 1671, while on a tour to Nor- 
wich ; and Evelyn, who went down at that time 
to join the royal party, having, as he says, "a 
desire to see that famous scholar and physitian, 
Dr. T. Browne," paid him a visit. He makes 
eulogistic mention of Sir Thomas's home, and 
tells us that " his whole house and garden was a 
paradise and cabinet of rarities, and that of the 
best collections, especially medails, books, plants, 
and natural things." So the good physician's 
days passed onward, filled with high reputation, 
and devoted to constant usefulness in his pro- 
fession, till in his seventy-sixth year he fell ill 



OF THE AUTHOR. 



XI 



and died. Submission to the will of God and 
fearlessness of death were among the expressions 
last on his lips. His burial-place is in the 
Church of St. Peter, Mancroft, in Norwich, 
where a mural monument on the south pillar 
of the altar records his learning and his virtues. 

The Rev. John Whitefoot, who lived so 
many years the constant friend and neighbour 
of Sir Thomas, was requested to draw up some 
" minutes " after the death of his old compan- 
ion. He complied in these fitting and worthy- 
to-be-remembered words. 

" For a character of his person, his complex- 
ion and hair were answerable to his name ; his 
stature was moderate, and habit of body neither 
fat nor lean, but eva-apKOi. 

" In his habit of clothing, he had an aversion 
to all finery, and affected plainness both in the 
fashion and ornaments. He ever wore a cloak, 
or boots, when few others did. He kept him- 
self always very warm, and thought it most safe 
so to do, though he never loaded himself with 
such a multitude of garments as Suetonius re- 
ports of Augustus, enough to clothe a good 
family. 

"The horizon of his understanding was much 
larger than the hemisphere of the world. All 
that was visible in the heavens he comprehended 



xii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

so well, that few that are under them knew so 
much. He could tell the number of the visible 
stars in his horizon, and call them all by their 
names that had any ; and of the earth he had 
such a minute and exact geographical knowl- 
edge, as if he had been by Divine Providence 
ordained surveyor-general of the whole terres- 
trial orb, and its products, minerals, plants, and 
animals. He was so curious a botanist, that, 
besides the specifical distinctions, he made nice 
and elaborate observations, equally useful as 
entertaining. 

" His memory, though not so eminent as that 
of Seneca or Scaliger, was capacious and tena- 
cious, insomuch that he remembered all that was 
remarkable in any book that he had read, and 
not only knew all persons again that he had ever 
seen at any distance of time, but remembered 
the circumstances of their bodies, and their par- 
ticular discourses and speeches. 

" In the Latin poets he remembered every- 
thing that was acute and pungent. He had read 
most of the historians, ancient and modern, 
wherein his observations were singular, nor 
taken notice of by common readers. He was 
excellent company when he was at leisure, and 
expressed more light than heat in the temper of 
his brain. 

" He had no despotical power over his affec- 



OF THE AUTHOR. xiii 

tions and passions, (that was a privilege of original 
perfection, forfeited by the neglect of the use of 
it,) but as large a political power over them as 
any Stoic or man of his time ; whereof he gave 
so great experiment, that he hath very rarely 
been known to have been overcome with any 
of them. The strongest that were found in 
him, both of the irascible and concupiscible, 
were under the control of his reason. Of ad- 
miration, which is one of them, being the only 
product either of ignorance or uncommon knowl- 
edge, he had more and less than other men, upon 
the same account of his knowing more than oth- 
ers ; so that, though he met with many rarities, 
he admired them not so much as others do. 

" He was never seen to be transported with 
mirth, or dejected with sadness ; always cheer- 
ful, but rarely merry, at any sensible rate ; sel- 
dom heard to break a jest ; and when he did, 
he would be apt to blush at the levity of it. His 
gravity was natural, without affectation. 

" His modesty was visible in a natural, habit- 
ual blush, which was increased upon the least 
occasion, and oft discovered without any observ- 
able cause. 

" They that knew no more of him than by 
the briskness of his writings, found themselves 
deceived in their expectation when they came 
in his company, noting the gravity and sobriety 



xiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

of his aspect and conversation, — so free from 
loquacity or much talkativeness, that he w^as 
something difficult to be engaged in any dis- 
course, though when he w^as so, it was always 
singular, and never trite or vulgar. Parsimoni- 
ous in nothing but his time, whereof he made 
as much improvement with as little loss as any 
man in it ; when he had any to spare from his 
drudging practice, he was scarce patient of any 
diversion from his studies \ so impatient of sloth 
and idleness, that he would say he could not do 
nothing. 

" Sir Thomas understood most of the Euro- 
pean languages ; viz. all that are in Hutter's 
Bible, which he made use of. The Latin and 
Greek he understood critically. The Oriental 
languages, which never were vernacular in this 
part of the world, he thought the use of them 
would not answer the time and pains of learning 
them ; yet had so great a veneration for the 
matrix of them, viz. the Hebrew, consecrated 
to the oracles of God, that he was not content 
to be totally ignorant of it, though very little 
of his science is to be found in any books of 
that primitive language. And though much is 
said to be written in the derivative idioms of that 
tongue, especially the Arabic, yet he was satis- 
fied with the translations, wherein he found 
nothing admirable. 



OF THE AUTHOR. xv 

" In his religion, he continued in the same 
mind which he had declared in his first book, 
written when he was but thirty years old, his 
' Religio Medici,' wherein he fully assented to 
that of the Church of England, preferring it 
before any in the world, as did the learned Gro- 
tius. He attended the public service very con- 
stantly when he was not withheld by his practice, 
never missed the sacrament in his parish if he 
were in town, read the best English sermons he 
could hear of with liberal applause, and delighted 
not in controversies. In his last sickness, where- 
in he continued about a week's time, enduring 
great pain of the colic, besides a continual fever, 
with as much patience as hath been seen in any 
man, without any pretence of stoical apathy, 
animosity, or vanity of not being concerned 
thereat, or suffering no impeachment of happi- 
ness, — ' Nihil agis, dolor.' 

" His patience was founded upon the Chris- 
tian philosophy and a sound faith of God's 
providence, and a meek and holy submission 
thereunto, which he expressed in few words. 
I visited him near his end, when he had not 
strength to hear or speak much ; the last words 
which I heard from him were, besides some ex- 
pressions of dearness, that he did freely submit 
to the will of God, being without fear. He had 
often triumphed over the king of terrors in 



xvi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

others, and given many repulses in the defence 
of patients ; but when his own turn came, he 
submitted with a meek, rational, and religious 
courage. 

" He might have made good the old saying of 
' Dat Galenus opes,' had he lived in a place that 
could have afforded it. But his indulgence and 
liberality to his children, especially in their trav- 
els, two of his sons in divers countries, and 
two of his daughters in France, spent him more 
than a little. He was liberal in his house-enter- 
tainments and in his charity. He left a comfort- 
able but no great estate, both to his lady and 
children, gained by his own industry. 

" Such was his sagacity and knowledge of all 
history, ancient and modern, and his observations 
thereupon so singular, that it hath been said by 
them that knew him best, that if his profession 
and place of abode would have suited his ability, 
he would have made an extraordinary man for 
the Privy Council, not much inferior to the fa- 
mous Padre Paolo, the late oracle of the Vene- 
tian state. 

" Though he were no prophet, nor son of a 
prophet, yet in that faculty which comes nearest 
it he excelled, i. e. the stochastic, wherein he 
was seldom mistaken as to future events, as well 
public as private, but not apt to discover any 
presages or superstition." 



OF THE AUTHOR. xvii 

Dr. Johnson affirms that " it is not on the 
praises of others, but on his own writings, that 
Sir Thomas Browne is to depend for the es- 
teem of posterity ; of which he will not easily 
be deprived while learning shall have any rever- 
ence among men ; for there is no science in 
which he does not discover some skill, and scarce 
any kind of knowledge, profane or sacred, ab- 
struse or elegant, which he does not appear to 
have cultivated with success " : and he also 
declares that " there is scarcely a writer to be 
found, whose profession was not divinity, that 
has so frequently testified his belief of the sacred 
writings, has appealed to them with such unlim- 
ited submission, or mentioned them with such 
unvaried reverence." 

In arranging this edition, the notes and read- 
ings adopted by several other editors of Sir 
Thomas Browne's writings have been largely 
consulted. Especial use has been made of the 
labors of Henrv Gardiner, M. A. of Exeter 
College, Oxford, and of the late Rev. Alexan- 
der Young, D. D., of Boston. It is hoped that 
the endeavor to supply a more perfect text than 
has hitherto appeared has been a successful 
effort on the part of the Editor and of those 
friends who have kindly aided him with their 
corrections and annotations. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



The portrait which accompanies this vol- 
ume is newly engraved from the head in the 
folio of 1686, the original painting of which is 
at Oxford. 

J. T. F. 

Boston, December , 1861. 



Religio Medici 



To THE Reader. 




ERTAINLY that man were greedy 
of life, who should desire to live 
when all the world were at an end ; 
and he must needs be very impa- 
tient, who would repine at death in the society 
of all things that suffer under it. Had not 
almost every man suffered by the press, or were 
not the tyranny thereof become universal, I had 
not wanted reason for complaint : but in times 
wherein I have lived to behold the highest per- 
version of that excellent invention, the name of 
his Majesty defamed, the honour of Parliament 
depraved, the writings of both depravedly, an- 
ticipatively, counterfeitly imprinted ; complaints 
may seem ridiculous in private persons ; and 
men of my condition may be as incapable of 
affronts, as hopeless of their reparations. And 



4 TO THE READER. 

truly liad not the duty I owe unto the importu- 
nity of friends, and the allegiance I must ever 
acknowledge unto truth, prevailed with me ; the 
inactivity of my disposition might have made 
these sufferings continual, and time, that brings 
other tilings to light, should have satisfied me in 
the remedy of its oblivion. But because tilings 
evidently false are not only printed, but many 
tilings of truth most falsely set forth ; iri this 
latter I could not but think myself engaged : for 
though we have no power to redress the former, , 
yet in the other the reparation being within our- 
selves, I have at present re-presented unto the 
world a full and intended copy of that piece, . 
which was most imperfectly and surreptitiously 
published before. 

This I confess, about seven years past, with 
some others of affinity thereto, for my private 
exercise and satisfaction, I had at leisurable! 
hours composed ; which being communicated 
unto one, it became common unto many, and 
was by transcription successively corrupted, until 
it arrived in a most depraved copy at the press. 
He that shall peruse that work, and shall take 
notice of sundry particularities and personal 
expressions therein, will easily discern the inten- 
tion was not publick : and being a private exer- 



TO THE READER. 5 

cise directed to myself, what is delivered therein 
was rather a memorial mito me than an example 
or rule iinto any other : and therefore, if there 
be any singularity therein correspondent unto 
the private conceptions of any man, it doth not 
advantage them ; or if dissentaneous thereunto, 
it no way overthrows them. It was penned in 
such a place, and with such disadvantage, that 
(I protest) from the first setting of pen unto 
paper, I had not the assistance of any good book, 
whereby to promote my invention, or relieve my 
memory ; and therefore there might be many real 
lapses therein, wliich others might take notice 
of, and more that I suspected myself. It was 
set down many years past, and was the sense of 
my conceptions at that time, not an immutable 
law unto my advancing judgment at all times ; 
and therefore there might be many things there- 
in plausible unto my passed apprehension, which 
are not agreeable unto my present self. There- 
fore are many things delivered rhetorically, many 
expressions therein merely tropical, and as they 
best illustrate my intention ; and therefore also 
there are many things to be taken in a soft and 
flexible sense, and not to be called unto the rigid 
test of reason. Lastly, all that is contained 
therein is in submission unto maturer discern- 



6 TO THE READER. 

ments ; and as I have declared, shall no further 
father them than the best and learned judgments 
shall authorize them : under favour of which 
considerations, I have made its secrecy pubhck, 
and committed the truth thereof to every ingen- 
uous Reader. 



THOMAS BROWNE. 




Religio Medici. 




OR my religion, tliougli there be sev- our Phy- 
sician a 

Christian. 



eral circumstances that might per- 



suade the world I have none at all, 
as the general scandal of my pro- 
fession, the natural course of my studies, the 
indifferency of my behaviour and discourse 
in matters of religion, neither violently de- 
fending one, nor with that common ardour and 
contention opposing another ; yet in despite 
hereof I dare, without usurpation, assume the 
honourable style of a Christian. Not that I 
merely owe this title to the font, my educa- 
tion, or clime wherein I was bom, as being 
bred up either to confirm those principles my 
parents instilled into my unwary understand- 
ing, or by a general consent to proceed in 
the religion of my coimtry; but having, in 
my riper years and confirmed judgment, seen 



8 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

and examined all,* I find myself obliged by the 
principles of grace, and the law of mine own 
reason, to embrace no other name but this : 
neither doth herein my zeal so far make me 
forget the general charity I owe unto humanity, 
as rather to hate than pity Turks, infidels, and 
(what is worse) Jews ; rather contenting my- 
self to enjoy that happy style, than maligning 
those who refiise so glorious a title. 

Quousque patiere, bone Jesu ! 

JudiBi te semel, ego sospius crucifix! ; 
Illi in Asia, ego in Britannia, 

Gallia, Germania; 
Bone Jesu, miserere mei, et Judceorum ! 

Hi8 belief jj^ g^^ because the name of a Christian is 

defined. 

become too general to express our faith, there 
being a geography of religion as well as lands, 
and every cHme being distinguished not only 
by their laws and limits, but circumscribed by 
their doctrines and rules of faith ; to be par- 
ticular, I am of that reformed new-cast religion, 
wherein I dislike nothing but the name ; of the 
same belief our Saviour taught, the apostles 
disseminated, the fathers authorized, and the 
martyrs confirmed ; but by the sinister ends of 
princes, the ambition and avarice of prelates, 
and the fatal corruption of times, so decayed, 

* According to the Apostolical precept, "Prove all things: 
hold fast that which is good." 1 Thess. v. 21. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 9 

impaired, and fallen from its native beauty, that 
it required the careful and charitable hands of 
these times to restore it to its primitive integ- 
rity. Now the accidental occasion whereon, the 
slender means whereby, the low and abject con- 
dition of the person by whom so good a work 
was set on foot, which in our adversaries begets 
contempt and scorn, fills me with wonder, and 
is the very same objection the insolent Pagans 
first cast at Christ and his disciples. 

III. Yet have I not so shaken hands with Dififerences 
those desperate resolutions, (who had rather neeTnot^ 
venture at large their decayed bottom, than separate 
brmg her in to be new trimmed in the dock ; 
who had rather promiscuously retain all, than 
abridge any, and obstinately be what they are, 
than what they have been,) as to stand in di- 
ameter and sword's point with them : we have 
reformed from them, not against them ; for omit- 
ting those improperations, and terms of scurrility 
betwixt us, which only difference our affections, 
and not our cause, there is between us one com- 
mon name and appellation, one faith and neces- 
sary body of principles common to us both ; and 
therefore I am not scrupulous to converse and 
live with them, to enter their churches in de- 
fect of ours, and either pray with them, or for 
them. I could never perceive any rational 
consequence from those many texts which pro- 



10 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

liibit the children of Israel to pollute themselves 
with the temples of the heathens ; we being all 
Christians, and not divided by such detested 
impieties as might profane our prayers, or the 
place wherem we make them ; or that a resolved 
conscience may not adore her Creator anywhere, 
especially in places devoted to his service ; 
where, if their devotions offend him, mine may 
please him ; if theirs profane it, mine may hal- 
low it. Holy-water and crucifix (dangerous to 
the common people) deceive not my judgment, 
nor abuse my devotion at all : I am, I confess, 
naturally inclined to that which misguided zeal 
terms superstition. My common conversation I 
do acknowledge austere, my behaviour full of 
rigour, sometimes not without morosity ; yet at 
my devotion I love to use the civility of my 
knee, my hat, and hand, with all those outward 
and sensible motions which may express or pro- 
mote my invisible devotion. I should violate 
my own arm rather than a church ; nor willing- 
ly deface the memory of saint or martyr. At 
the sight of a cross or crucifix I can dispense 
with my hat, but scarce with the thought or 
memory of my Saviour. I cannot laugh at, 
but rather pity, the fruitless journeys of pil- 
grims, nor contemn the miserable condition of 
friars ; for though misplaced in circumstances, 
there is somethino; in it of devotion. I could 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 11 

never hear the Ave Mary bell * without an ele- 
vation ; or think it a sufficient warrant, because 
they erred in one circumstance, for me to err 
m all, that is, in silence and dumb contempt: 
whilst therefore they directed their devotions 
to her, I offered mine to God, and rectified the 
errors of their prayers, by rightly ordering mine 
own. At a solemn procession I have wept abun- 
dantly, while my consorts, blind with opposition 
and prejudice, have fallen into an access of scorn 
and laughter. There are, questionless, both in 
Greek, Roman, and African chm'ches, solemni- 
ties and ceremonies, whereof the wiser zeals do 
make a Christian use, and stand condemned by 
us, not as evil in themselves, but as allurements 
and baits of superstition to those vulgar heads 
that look asquint on the face of truth, and those 
unstable judgments that cannot consist in the 
narrow point and centre of virtue without a reel 
or stagger to the circumference. f 

IV. As there were many reformers, so like- or Refoi- 
wise there were many reformations ; every conn- °^**^**°^ 



* A church bell that tolls every day at six and twelve of the 
clock ; at the hearing whereof, every one in what place soever, 
either of house or street, betakes himself to his prayer, which is 
commonly directed to the Virgin. 

t This figure is probably borrowed from Aristotle. Eth. Nic. 
li. 9. "Wherefore it is hard to be good: for in each action to 
find the mean is difficult, as it is not every one that can find the 
centre of a circle, but he that is skilled to do so." 



12 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

try proceeding in a particular way and method^ 
according; as their national interest, too:etlier 
with their constitution and clime, inclined them ; 
some angrily, and with extremity ; others calmly, 
and with mediocrity ; not rending, but easily 
dividing the community, and leaving an hon- 
est possibility of a reconciliation ; which though 
peaceable spirits do desire, and may conceive 
that revolution of time and the mercies of God 
may effect, yet that judgment that shall consider 
the present antipathies between the two ex- 
tremes, their contrarieties in condition, affection, 
and opinion, may with the same hopes expect 
an union in the poles of heaven. 
Of the V. But to difference myself nearer, and draw 

into a lesser circle : there is no church, whose 
every part so squares unto my conscience ; whose 
articles, constitutions, and customs seem so con- 
sonant unto reason, and as it were framed to 
my particular devotion, as this whereof I hold 
my belief, the Church of England, to whose 
faith I am a sworn subject ; and therefore in a . 
double obligation subscribe unto her Articles, 
and endeavour to observe her constitutions: 
whatsoever is beyond, as points indifferent, I 
observe according to the rules of my private 
reason, or the humour and fashion of my devo- 
tion ; neither believing this, because Luther 
affirmed it, nor disapproving that, because Cal- 



Church of 
England 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 13 

vin hath disavouched it. I condemn not all 
things in the council of Trent, nor approve 
all in the synod of Dort. In brief, where the 
Scripture is silent, the Church is my text; 
where that speaks, 't is but my comment ; where 
there is a joint silence of both, I borrow not the 
rules of my religion from Rome or Geneva, but 
the dictates of my own reason. It is an unjust 
scandal of our adversaries, and a gross error in 
ourselves, to compute the nativity of our relig- 
ion from Henry the Eighth, who, though he 
rejected the Pope, refused not the faith of 
Rome, and effected no more than what his own 
predecessors desired and assayed in ages past, 
and was conceived the state of Venice would 
have attempted in our days. It is as unchari- 
table a point in us to fall upon those popular 
scurrilities and opprobrious scoffs of the bishop 
of Rome, to whom, as a temporal prince, we 
owe the duty of good language. I confess there 
is cause of passion between us : by his sentence 
I stand excommunicated, heretic is the best 
language he affords me ; yet can no ear witness 
I ever returned him the name Antichrist, man 
of sin, or whore of Babylon. It is the method 
of charity to suffer without reaction : those usual 
satires and invectives of the pulpit may per- 
chance produce a good effect on the vulgar, 
whose ears are opener to rhetoric than logic ; 



14 RELIGIO MEDICL 

yet do they in no wise confirm the faith of wiser 
behevers, who know that a good cause needs 
not to be patron'd by passion, but can sustain 
itself upon a temperate dispute. 

VI. I could never divide myself from any 
man upon the difference of an opinion, or be 
angry with his judgment for not agreeing with 
me in that, from which within a few days I 
should dissent myself. I have no genius to 
Disputes in disputcs iu religiou, and have often thought it 
wisely'^ wisdoui to decliuc them, especially upon a dis-. 
avoided, advantage, or when the cause of truth might 
suffer in the weakness of my patronage. Where 
we desire to be informed, 'tis good to contest 
with men above ourselves; but to confirm and 
establish our opinions, 'tis best to argue with 
judgments below our own, that the frequent 
spoils and victories over their reasons may settle 
in ourselves an esteem and confirmed opinion of 
our own. Every man is not a proper champion 
for truth, nor fit to take up the gauntlet in the 
cause of verity: many fi'om the ignorance of 
these maxims, and an inconsiderate zeal for 
truth, have too rashly charged the troops of 
error, and remain as trophies unto the enemies 
of truth. A man may be in as just possession 
of truth as of a city, and yet be forced to 
surrender y 't is therefore far better to enjoy her 
with peace, than to hazard her on a battlfi : if 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 15 

therefore there rise any doubts in my way, I 
do forget them, or at least defer them, till my 
better settled judgment and more manly reason 
be able to resolve them ; for I perceive every 
man's own reason is his best (Edipus, and will, 
upon a reasonable truce, find a way to loose 
those bonds wherewith the subtleties of error 
have enchained our more flexible and tender 
judgments. In philosophy, where truth seems 
double-faced, there is no man more paradoxical 
than myself: but in divinity I love to keep the Fantasies 
road ; and, though not in an implicit, yet an dln^Irour 
humble faith, follow the great wheel of the as giving 
Church, by which I move, not reserving any to errors. 
proper poles or motion from the epicycle of my 
own brain ; by these means I leave no gap for 
heresy, schisms, or errors, of which at present I whereof 
hope I shall not injure truth to say I have no 



cian con- 



tamt or tmcture. I must confess my greener ^^sseth to 

T -I 1 n 1 . 1 ^ have had 

studies have been polluted with two or three, two or 
not any begotten in the latter centuries, but old ^^^^^' 
and obsolete, such as could never have been 
revived, but by such extravagant and irregular 
heads as mine ; for indeed heresies perish not 
with their authors, but like the river Arethusa,* 

* Arethusa, a nymph of Achaia, while bathing, on her return 
from hunting in the StymphaUan wood, was surprised by the 
river god Alpheus, in wliose waters she was disporting herself. 
She fled from him, and after a long chase was concealed in a 
cloud by Diana, just as her strength was failing. She thus re- 



16 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

though they lose their currents in one place, 
they rise up again in another. One general 
council is not able to extirpate one single her- 
esy: it may be cancelled for the present; but 
revolution of time and the lil<:e aspects from 
heaven, will restore it, when it will flourish till 
it be condemned again. For as though there 
was metempsychosis, and the soul of one man 
passed into another, opinions do find, after cer- 
tain revolutions, men and minds like those that 
first begat them. To see ourselves again, we 
need not look for Plato's year : * every man is 
not only himself; there hath been many Di- 
ogenes, and as many Timons, though but few of 
that name : men are lived over again, the world 
is now as it was in ages past ; there was none 
then, but there hath been some one since that 
parallels him, and as it were his revived self. 
1st, That y 11^ Now the first of mine was that of the 
might, iu Arabians,! that the souls of men perished with 

lates (Ovid. Metam. v. 574) her transformation into the stream 
which bears her name, and with which the waters of Alpheus 
vainly sought to unite, Diana opening a way for her under 
ground and bringing her out again in Ortygia, near Syracuse 
in Sicily. 

* A revolution of certain thousand years, when all things 
should return unto their former estate, and he be teaching again 
in his school as when he delivered this opinion. 

t " It was not only in the point now mentioned, that the doc- 
trine of the Gospel suffered, at this time, from the erroneous 
fancies of wrong-headed doctors. For there sprung up now, in i 
Arabia, a certain sort of minute philosophers, the disciples of a 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 17 

their bodies, but should yet be raised again at some sort, 
the last day. Not that I did absolutely con- ""^^^^Z" 
ceive a mortality of the soul ; but if that were, '^ith the 
which faith, not philosophy, hath yet thoroughly ° ^' 
disproved, and that both entered the grave 
together, yet I held the same conceit thereof, 
that we all do for the body, that it should rise 
again. Surely it is but the merits of our un- 
worthy natures, if we sleep in darkness until 
the last alarum. A serious reflex upon my 
own un worthiness did make me backward from 
challenging this prerogative of my soul: so I 
might enjoy my Saviour at the last, I could 
with patience be nothing almost unto eternity. 
The second was that of Origen, that God would 2d, That 
not persist in his vengeance forever, but after shoSr 
a definite time of his wrath, he would release ^^^^^^ ^® 
the damned souls from torture ; which error 
I fell into upon a serious contemplation of the 
great attribute of God, his Mercy ; and did a 

master whose obscurity has concealed him from the knowl- 
edge of after ages, who denied the immortality of the soul, and 
believed that it perished with the body : but maintained, at the 
same time, that it was to be recalled to life with the body, by 
the power of God. The philosophers who held this opinion 
were called Arabians, from their country. Origen was called 
from Egj^pt, to make head against this rising sect ; and disputed 
against them in full council, with such remarkable success, 
that they abandoned their erroneous sentiments, and returned 
to the received doctrine of the Church." Mosheim, Eccl. Hist, 
vol. i. ch. 5, § 16, p. 307. 
2 



18 ' RELIGIO MEDICI. 

little cherish it in myself, because I found there- 
in no malice, and a ready weight to sway me 
from the other extreme of despair, whereunto 
melancholy and contemplative natures are too 
8d, That easily disposed. A third there is which I did 
pray^for i^^ver positively maintain or practise, but have 
the dead, often wislicd it had been consonant to truth,, 
and not offensive to my religion, and that is the ■ 
prayer for the dead ; whereunto I was inclined ' 
from some charitable inducements, whereby I 
could scarce contain my prayers for a friend at : 
the ringing of a bell, or behold his corpse with- 
out an orison for his soul : 't was a good way, , 
methought, to be remembered by posterity, and I 
But these far more noble than a history. These opinions^ 

he suffered x • , • i • , i , • i 

not to grow -»- ^cver mamtamed with pertniacy, or encleav-- 
into here- ourcd to iuvciglc any man's belief unto minei 
nor so much as ever revealed or disputed them^ 
with my dearest fr'iends ; by which means II 
neither propagated them in others, nor con-j 
firmed them in myself; but suffering them to 
flame upon their own substance, without ad-i 
dition of new fuel, they went out insensibly of? 
themselves : therefore these opinions, though 
condemned by lawful councils, were not here- 
sies in me, but bare errors, and single lapses of 
my understanding without a joint depravity of I 
my will. Those have not only depraved un-i 
derstandings, but diseased affections, who can 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 19 

not enjoy a singularity without an heresy, or 
be the author of an opinion without they be of 
a sect also : this was the villany of the first 
schism of Lucifer, who was not content to err 
alone, but drew into his faction many legions 
of spirits ; and upon this experience he tempted 
only Eve, as well understanding the commu- 
nicable nature of sin, and that to deceive but 
one, was tacitly and upon consequence to de- 
lude them both. 

VIII. That heresies should arise, we have oftheman- 
the prophecy of Christ ; but that old ones should 'l^^^^^ 
be abolished, we hold no prediction. That there schism, 
must be heresies, is true, not only in our church, tiding ' 
but also in any other : even in doctrines hereti- i<^s«^^- 
cal, there will be super-heresies ; and Arians 
not only divided from their church, but also 
among themselves : for heads that are disposed 
unto schism and complexionably propense to 
innovation, are naturally indisposed for a com- 
munity ; nor will be ever confined unto the 
order or economy of one body ; and therefore 
when they separate from others, they knit but 
loosely among themselves ; nor contented with 
a general breach or dichotomy with their church, 
do subdivide and mince themselves almost into 
atoms. 'Tis true, that men of singular parts 
and humours have not been free fi'om singular 
opinions and conceits in all ages ; retaining 



20 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

something not only beside the opinion of their 
own church or any other, but also of any par- 
ticular author ; which notwithstanding a sober 
judgment may do without oifence or heresy ; for 
there is yet, after all the decrees of councils, 
and the niceties of schools, many things un- 
touched, unimagined, wherein the liberty of an 
honest reason may play and expatiate with secu- 
rity, and far without the circle of an heresy. 
Mysteries IX.* As for tliose wiugy mysterics in divin- 
oniy tcTbe" ^^7' ^^^ ^^^T subtlcties in religion, which have 
approached unhinged the brains of better heads, they never 
stretched the pia mater of mine : methmks there 
be not impossibilities enough in religion for an 
active faith ; the deepest mysteries ours con- 
tains, have not only been illustrated, but main- 
tained by syllogism, and the rule of reason., 
I love to lose myself in a mystery, to pursue 
my reason to an altitudo ! 'Tis my solitary 
recreation to pose my apprehension with those 
involved enigmas and riddles of the Trinity, 
with Incarnation and Resurrection. I can an- 
swer all the objections of Satan and my rebel-^ 
lious reason, with that odd resolution I learnedt 
of Tertullian, Certum est quia impossihile est,: 
I desire to exercise my faith in the difficultestr 
point ; for to credit ordinary and visible objects,. 

* See Aids to Reflection, p. 151. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 21 

is not faitli, but persuasion. Some believe the 
better for seeing Christ's sepulchre ; and when 
they have seen the Red Sea, doubt not of the 
miracle. Now contrarily, I bless myself, and 
am thankfal that I live not in the days of mir- 
acles, that I never saw Christ nor his disciples : 
I would not have been one of those Israehtes 
that passed the Red Sea, nor one of Christ's 
patients on whom he wrought his wonders ; Blessed are 
then had my faith been thrust upon me ; nor ^^^^^ ^^^^ 
should I enjoy that greater blessing pronounced seen and / 
to all that believe and saw not. 'T is an easy blue^d. 
and necessary belief, to credit what our eye and 
sense hath examined : * I believe he was dead 
and buried, and rose again ; and desire to see 
him in his glory, rather than to contemplate 
him in his cenotaph or sepulchre. Nor is this 
much to believe ; as we have reason, we owe 
this faith unto history : they only had the ad- 
vantage of a bold and noble faith, who lived 
before his coming, who upon obscure prophecies 
and mystical types could raise a behef, and 
expect apparent impossibilities. 

X. 'Tis true, there is an edge in all firm Thear- 
belief, and with an easy metaphor we may say christian! 
the sword of faith ; f but in these obscurities I 



* " God forbede but that men should believ 

Well more thing than thei han seen with eye." 

Chaucer. 
t Eph. vi. 16. 



22 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

rather use it in the adjunct the apostle gives it, 
a buckler ; under which I conceive a wary com- 
batant may he invulnerable. Since I was of 
understanding to know we knew nothing,) my 
reason hath been more pliable to the will of 
faith ; I am now content to understand a mys- 
tery without a rigid definition, in an easy and 
Platonic description. That allegorical descrip- 
tion* of Hermes pleaseth me beyond all the 
metaphysical definitions of divines ; where I 
cannot satisfy my reason, I love to humour my 
fancy : I had as lieve you tell me that anima est 
angelus hominis, est corpus Dei, as ei/reXe^eta ; 
IjUX est umbra Dei, as actus perspieui.'f Where 
there is an obscurity too deep for our reason, 
'tis good to sit down with a description, peri- 

* Sphcera cujus centrum ubique, circumfereniia nullihi. 

t Great variety of opinion there hath been amongst the an- 
cient philosophers touching the definition of the soul. Thales's 
was, that it is a nature without repose. Asclepiades, that it is an 
exercitation of sense : Hesiod, that it is a thing composed of earth 
and water : Parmeuides holds, of earth and fire ; Galen, that it is 
heat; Hippocrates, that it is a spirit diffused through the body: 
some others have held it to be light; Plato saith, 'tis a substance 
moving itself; after cometh Aristotle (whom the author here re- 
proveth) and goeth a degree farther, and saith it is €VT6Xe;^eta, 
that is, that which naturally makes the body to move. But this 
definition is as rigid as any of the other; for this tells us not what 
the essence, origin, or nature of the soul is, but only marks an 
effect of it, and therefore signifieth no more than if he had said, 
that it is angelus hominis, or an intelligence that moveth man, 
as he supposed those other to do the heavens. K. Cf. Cic. 
Tusc. Disp. I. x. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 23 

phrasis, or adumbration ; for by acquainting our 
reason liow unable it is to display the visible and 
obvious effects of nature, it becomes more hum- 
ble and submissive unto the subtleties of faith ; 
and thus I teach my haggard and unreclaimed 
reason to stoop unto the lure of faith. I believe 
there was already a tree whose fruit our unhap- 
py parents tasted ; though in the same chapter, 
when God forbids it, 'tis positively said the 
plants of the fields were not yet grown, for God 
had not caused it to rain upon the earth. I 
believe that the serpent, (if we shall Hterally 
understand it,) from his proper form and figure, 
made his motion on his belly before the curse. 
I find the trial of the pucellage and virginity of 
women, which God ordained the Jews, is very 
fallible. Experience and history inform me, 
that not only many particular women, but like- 
wise whole nations, have escaped the curse of 
childbirth, which God seems to pronounce upon 
the whole sex ; yet do I beheve that all this is 
tme, which indeed my reason would persuade 
me to be false ; and this I think is no vulgar 
part of faith, to beheve a thing not only above, 
but contrary to reason, and against the argu- 
ments of our proper senses. 

XI. In my solitary and retired imagination, TheEter- 

nity of 

Neque enim cum lectulus aut me God. 

Porticus excepit, desum mihi — 



24 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

I remember I am not alone, and therefore forget 
not to contemplate him and his attributes who is 
ever with me, especially those two mighty ones, 
his wisdom and eternity : with the one I recre- 
ate, with the other I confound my understand- 
ing; for who can speak of eternity without a 
solecism, or think thereof without an ecstasy? 
Time we may comprehend, it is but five days 
older than om'selves, and hath the same horo- 
scope with the world ; but to retire so far back 
as to apprehend a beginning, to give such an 
infinite start forward as to conceive an end in 
an essence that we affirm hath neither the one 
nor the other, it puts my reason to St. Paul's 
sanctuary : my philosophy dares not say the 
angels can do it ; God hath not made a creature 
that can comprehend him ; it is a privilege of 
his own nature : / am that I am, was his own 
definition unto Moses ; and it was a short one, 
to confound mortality, that durst question God, 
or ask him what he was. Indeed he only is ; all 
others have and shall be ; but in eternity there 
is no distinction of tenses ; and therefore that 
terrible term predestination, which hath troubled 
so many weak heads to conceive, and the wisest 
to explain, is in respect to God no prescious de- 
termination of our states to come, but a defini- 
tive blast of his will already fulfilled, and at the 
instant that he first decreed it ; for to liis eter- 



RELIGIO MEDICI, 25 

nity, whicli is indivisible, and all together, the 
last trump is already sounded, the reprobates in 
the flame, and the blessed in Abraham's bosom. 
St. Peter speaks modestly, when he saith,* a 
thousand years to God are but as one day ; for 
to speak like a philosopher, those continued 
instances of time which flow into a thousand 
years, make not to him one moment : what to 
us is to come, to his eternity is present, his 
whole duration being but one permanent point, 
without succession, parts, flux, or division. 

XII. There is no attribute that adds more ofthe 
difficulty to the mystery of the Trinity, where, "^ ^' 
though in a relative way of Father and Son, we 
must deny a priority. I wonder how Aristotle 
could conceive the world eternal, or how he 
could make good two eternities : his similitude 
of a triangle, comprehended in a square, doth 
somewhat illustrate the trinity of our souls, and 
that the triple unity of God ; for there is in us 
not three, but a trinity of souls, because there is 
in us, if not three distinct souls, yet differing 
faculties, that can and do subsist apart in differ- 
ent subjects, and yet in us are so united as to 
make but one soul and substance : if one soul 
were so perfect as to inform three distinct bod- 
ies, that were a petty trinity : conceive the dis- 
tinct number of three, not divided nor separated 

* 2 Pet. iii. 8. 



26 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

by the intellect, but actually comprehended in 
its unity, and that is a perfect trinity. I have 
often admired the mystical way of Pythagoras, 
and the secret magic of numbers. " Beware of 
pliilosophy," is a precept not to be received in 
too large a sense : for in this mass of nature 
there is a set of things that carry in their front, 
though not in capital letters, yet in stenography 
and short characters, something of divinity, 
which to wiser reasons serve as luminaries in 
the abyss of knowledge, and to judicious beliefs 
as scales and roundles to mount the pinnacles 
and highest pieces of divinity. The severe 
schools shall never laugh me out of the phi- 
The visible losopliy of Hermcs, that this visible world is 
Xture b^* ^ picture of the invisible, wherein as in a 
of the portrait things are not truly, but in equivocal 
shapes, and as they counterfeit some more real 
substance in that invisible fabric. 
The Wis- XIII. That other attribute wherewith I rec- 

dom of 

God. reate my devotion, is his Wisdom, in which I 

am happy ; and for the contemplation of this 
only, do not repent me that I was bred in the 
way of study : the advantage I have of the vul- 
gar, with the content and happiness I conceive 
therein, is an ample recompense for all my en- 
deavours, in what part of knowledge soever. 
Wisdom is his most beauteous attribute ; no 
man can attain unto it, yet Solomon pleased 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 27 

God when lie desired it. He is wise, because lie 
knows all things ; and he knoweth all things, 
because he made them all : but his greatest 
knowledge is in comprehending that he made 
not, that is, himself. And this is also the great- 
est knowledge in man : for this I do honour my 
own profession, and embrace the comisel even 
of the devil himself : had he read such a lecture 
in Paradise as he did at Delphos,* we had bet- 
ter known ourselves, nor had we stood in fear 
to know him. I know He is wise in all, won- 
derful in what we conceive, but far more in 
what we comprehend not; for we behold him 
but asquint, upon reflex or shadow ; our under- 
standing is dimmer than Moses' eye ; we are 
ignorant of the back parts or lower side of his 
divinity ; therefore to pry into the maze of his 
counsels, is not only folly in man, but presump- 
tion even in angels : like us, they are liis ser- 
vants, not his senators ; he holds no council, but 
that mystical one of the Trinity, wherein though 
there be three persons, there is but one mind 
that decrees without contradiction : nor needs 
he any ; his actions are not begot with delibera- 
tion, his wisdom naturally knows what is best ; 
his intellect stands ready fraught with the super- 
lative and purest ideas of goodness ; consultation 
and election, which are two motions in us, make 

* Tv(o6k aeavToVj Nosce ie ipsum. 



28 RELIGIO MEDICI. '■ 

but one in him; his actions springing from his 1 
power, at the first touch of his wilL These are j 
contemplations metaphysical : my humble spec- 
ulations have another method, and are content | 
to trace and discover those expressions he hath 
left in his creatures, and the obvious effects of ; 
No danger uaturc I there is no danger to profound these 
in'^totoce niysteries, no sanctum sanctorum in philosophy, i 
the hand of The world was made to be inhabited by beasts, ' 
WMks. '^ but studied and contemplated by man : * 't is the ; 
debt of our reason we owe unto God, and the ; 
homage we pay for not being beasts : without I 
this, the world is still as though it had not been, 
or as it was before the sixth day, when as yet i 
there was not a creature that could conceive or , 
say there was a world. The wisdom of God 
receives small honour from those vulgar heads 
that rudely stare about, and with a gross rustici- ; 
ty admire his works : those highly magnify him, 
whose judicious inquiry into his acts, and delib- j 
erate research into his creatures, return the duty i 

of a devout and learned admiration. Therefore, i 

I 

Search while thou wilt, and let thy reason go I 

To ransom truth, even to th' abyss below; '^ 

Rally the scattered causes ; and that line | 

Which nature twists, be able to untwine. i 



* In the MS. (in the British Museum) this clause stands thus: 
" The world was made not so much to be inhabited by men, as 
to be contemplated, studied, and known, by man." 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 29 

It is thy Maker's will, for unto none 

But unto reason can he e'er be known. 

The devils do know thee, but those damn'd meteors 

Build not thy glory, but confound thy creatures. 

Teach my endeavours so thy works to read, 

That learning them in thee I may proceed. 

Give thou my reason that instructive flight, 

Whose weary wings may on thy hands still light. 

Teach me to soar aloft, yet ever so. 

When near the sim, to stoop again below. 

Thus shall my humble feathers safely hover, 

And though near earth, more than the heavens discover. 

And then at last, when homeward I shall drive 

Eich with the spoils of nature to my hive, 

There will I sit like that industrious fly, 

Buzzing thy praises, which shall never die. 

Till death abrupts them, and succeeding glory 

Bid me go on in a more lasting story. 

And this is almost all wherein an humble 
creature may endeavour to requite, and some 
way to retribute unto his Creator : for if not he 
that saith, "Lord, Lord, but he that doth the st. Matt. 
will of his Father," shall be saved; certainly ^"•^■^' 
our wills must be our performances, and our 
intents make out our actions ; otherwise our 
pious laboui's shall find anxiety in our graves, 
and our best endeavours not hope, but fear a 
resurrection. 

XIV. There is but one first cause, and four Every crea- 



second causes of all tilings : some are without ^^^^ .^.^ 
efficient, as God ; others without matter, as an- proper end. 
gels ; some without form, as the first matter : 
but every essence created or uncreated hath its 



30 RELIGIO MEDICI. '., 

\ 
final cause, and some positive end both of its \ 
essence and operation : * tliis is the cause I grope ' 
after in the works of nature ; on tliis hangs the ' 
providence of God: to raise so beauteous a - 
structure, as the world and the creatures thereof, : 
was but his art ; but their sundry and divided | 
operations, with their predestinated ends, are j 
from the treasury of his wisdom. In the causes, ' 
nature, and affections of the eclipses of the sun 1 
and moon, there is most excellent speculation ; ; 
but to profound farther, and to contemplate a \ 
reason why his providence hath so disposed and ! 
ordered their motions in that vast circle, as to ! 
conjoin and obscure each other, is a sweeter i 
piece of reason, and a diviner point of philoso- 
phy ; therefore sometimes, and in some things, ' 
there appears to me as much divinity in Galen 
his books De iisu partium^ as in Suarez his i 
Metaphysics : had Aristotle been as curious in ; 
the enquiry of this cause as he was of the other, , 
he had not left behind him an imperfect piece of i 
philosophy, but an absolute tract of divinity. ] 
Nature do- XV. Nolura nihil agit frustra^ is the only \ 
ing j^^(]jgp^^r^]3ig axiom in philosophy ; there are no ] 
grotesques in nature ; not any thing framed to ! 



* " Eterne God, that thurgh thy purveance 
Ledest this world by certain governance, 
In idel, as men sain, ye nothing make." 

Chaucek, Frankeleine's Tale, 11176. 



in Tain. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 31 

fill up empty cantons, and unnecessaiy spaces : 
in the most imperfect creatures, and such as 
were not preserved in the ark, but, having their 
seeds and principles in the womb of nature, are 
everywhere, where the power of the sun is ; * 
in these is the wisdom of his hand discovered : 
out of this rank Solomon chose the object of his Prov. -d. 
admiration ; indeed, what reason may not go to 24-28^^ 
school to the wisdom of bees, ants, and spiders ? 
what wise hand teacheth them to do what rea- 
son cannot teach us ? Ruder heads stand amazed 
at those prodigious pieces of nature, whales, ele- 
phants, dromedaries, and camels ; these, I con- 
fess, are the colossi and majestic pieces of her 
hand : but in these narrow engines there is 
more curious mathematics ; and the civility of 
these little citizens more neatly sets forth the 
wisdom of their Maker. Who admires not 
Regio-Montanus his fly beyond his eagle, or 
wonders not more at the operation of two souls 
in those little bodies, than but one in the trunk 
of a cedar ? f I could never content my con- 

* " Miraculous may seem to him that reades 
So strange ensample of conception ; 
But reason teacheth that the finaitful seedes 

Of all things living, thro' impression 
Of the sun-beames in moyst complexion 
Doe life conceive, and quick'ned are by kynd." 

Faerie Queene. 
t See Wordsworth's exquisite little poem entitled " Nutting," 
and Landor's Fsesulan Idyl: — 



32 RELIGIO MEDICI, 

templation with those general pieces of wonder, 
the flux and reflux of the sea, the increase of 
the Nile, the conversion of the needle to the 
north ; and have studied to match and parallel 
those in the more obvious and neglected pieces 
of nature, which without further travel I can do 
in the cosmography of myself: we carry with 
us the wonders Ave seek without us : there is all 
Africa and her prodigies in us ; we are that bold 
and adventurous piece of nature, which he that 
studies Avisely learns in a compendium, what 
others labour at in a divided piece and endless 
volume. 
Nature a XVI. Tlius tlicrc are two books from whence 
I collect my divinity ; besides that written one 
of God, another of his servant nature, that uni- 
versal and public manuscript, that lies expansed 
unto the eyes of all : those that never saw him 
in the one, have discovered him in the other. 
This was the Scripture and Theology of the 
heathens : the natural motion of the sun made 
them more admire him than its supernatural 

" And 't is and ever was my wish and way 
To let all flowers live freely, and all die, 
Whene'er their Genius bids their souls depart, 
Among their kindred in their native place. 
I never pluck the rose ; the violet's head 
Hath shaken with my breath upon its bank, 
And not reproached me ; the ever sacred cup 
Of the pure lily hath between my hands 
Felt safe, unsoiled, nor lost one grain of gold." 



Bible open 
to all. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 33 

station did the children of Israel ; the ordinary Josh. x. 
effect of nature wrought more admiration in 
them, than in the other all his miracles : surely 
the heathens knew better how to join and read 
these mystical letters than we Christians, who 
cast a more careless eye on these common hiero- 
glyphics, and disdain to suck divinity from the 
flowers of nature. Nor do I so forget God as to 
adore the name of nature ; which I define not, 
with the schools, to be the principle of motion 
and rest, but that straight and regular line, that 
settled and constant course the wisdom of God 
hath ordained the actions of his creatures, ac- 
cording to their several kinds. To make a 
revolution every day, is the nature of the sun, 
because of that necessary course which God 
hath ordained it, from which it cannot swerve 
but by a faculty from that voice which first did 
give it motion.* Now this course of nature 
God seldom alters or perverts, but, like an ex- 
cellent artist, hath so contrived his work, that 
with the selfsame instrument, without a new 

* See Wordsworth's Ode to Duty: — 

" Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; 
And the most ancient heavens thro' thee are fresh and strong." 

Cf. Cowper's Task, bk. vi : — 

" Some say that in the origin of things, 
When all creation started into birth. 
The infant elements received a law 
3 



34 RELIGIO MEDICI. ; 

creation, he may effect his obscurest designs. \ 
Ex. XV. 25. Thus he sweeteneth the water with a wood, \ 
xxxviu. 5. preserveth the creatures in the ark, which the! 
blast of his ijiouth might have as easily created ; i 
for God is hke a skilful geometrician, who when ■ 
more easily, and with one stroke of his compass, I 
he might describe or divide a right line, had yet • 
rather do this in a circle or longer way, accord- 
ing to the constituted and forelaid principles of ; 
his art : yet this rule of his he doth sometimes i 
pervert, to acquaint the world "vvith his preroga- i 
live, lest the arrogancy of our reason should^ 
question liis power, and conclude he could not. j 
And thus I call the effects of nature the works | 
of God, whose hand and instrument she only is ; i 
and therefore to ascribe his actions unto her, is i 
to devolve the honour of the principal agent / 
upon the instrument ; which if with reason we \ 
may do, then let our hammers rise up and boast 
they have built our houses, and our pens receive 
the honour of our writing. I hold there is a 
general beauty in the works of God, and there- 

From which they swerve not since. That under force 
Of that controlHng ordinance they move, 
And need not his immediate hand who first 
Prescribed their course, to regulate it now. 

The Lord of all, himself through all diffused, 
Sustains and is the life of all that lives. 
Nature is but a name for an effect. 
Whose cause is God." 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 35 

fore no deformity in any kind of species whatso- eccIus. 
ever : I cannot tell by what logic we call a toad, g^'"'"'' ^^' 
a bear, or an elephant ugly, they being created wisd. xv. 
in those outward shapes and figures which best 
express those actions of their inward forms. 
And having passed that general visitation of 
God, who saw that all that he had made was 
good, that is, conformable to his will, which Gen. i. 31. 
abhors deformity, and is the rule of order and 
beauty ; there is no deformity but in monstros- 
ity, wherein notwithstanding there is a kind of 
beauty, nature so ingeniously contriving the ir- 
regular parts, that they become sometimes more 
remarkable than the principal fabric. To speak 
yet more narrowly, there was never any thing 
ugly or misshapen, but the chaos ; wherein, not- 
withstanding, to speak strictly, there was no 
deformity, because no form, nor was it yet im- 
pregnate by the voice of God ; now nature is 
Qot at variance with art, nor art with nature, 
they being both servants of his providence ; art 
is the perfection of nature : were the world now " Nature 
is it was the sixth day, there were yet a chaos : *^® *'"' 

•/ ' •^ ' -whereby 

lature hath made one world, and art another. God doth 
[n brief, all things are artificial ; for nature is ^oli™' 
:he art of God. 

XYII. This is the ordinary and open way of Providence 
lis providence, which art and industry have in J*y ^^n^^^' 
I good part discovered, whose effects we may fortune. 



36 RELIGIO MEDICI. , 

foretell without an oracle : to foreshow these, is [ 
not prophecy, but prognostication. There is ; 
another way, full of meanders and labyrinths,] 
whereof the devil and spirits have no exact, 
Ephemerides, and that is a more particular and ; 
obscure method of his providence, directing the i 
operations of individuals and single essences : ' 
this we call fortune, that serpentine and crooked '] 
line, whereby he draws those actions his wis->; 
dom intends, in a more unkno>vn and secret^ 
way. This cryptic and involved method of his ] 
providence have I ever admired ; nor can I ' 
relate the history of my life, the occurrences , 
of my days, the escapes of dangers, and hits of : 
chance, with a Bezo las Manos to fortune, or '■ 

Geti.xxii. a bare gramercy to my good stars. Abraham j 
might have thought the ram in the thicket camel 
thither by accident ; human reason would have> 

Ex. ii. said, that mere chance conveyed Moses in the 
ark to the sight of Pharaoh's daughter : what a 

Gen. labyrinth is there in the story of Joseph, able to 

^^^^" convert a stoic ! Surely there are in every 
man's life certain rubs, doublings, and wrenches, 
which pass awhile under the effects of chance, 
but at the last, well examined, prove the mere 
hand of God. It was not dumb chance that, to, 
discover the fougade or powder-plot, contrived a 
miscarriage in the letter. I like the victory of 
'88 the better for that one occurrence, which 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 37 

our enemies imputed to our dishonour, and the 
partiahty of fortune, to wit, the tempests and 
contrariety of winds. King Phihp did not de- 
tract from the nation, when he said he sent his 
armado to fight with men, and not to combat 
with the wmds. Where there is a manifest dis- 
proportion between the powers and forces of 
two several agents, upon a maxim of reason we 
may promise the victory to the superior; but 
when unexpected accidents shp in, and un- 
thought of occurrences hitervene, these must 
proceed from a power that owes no obedience to 
those axioms ; where, as in the writing upon the Dan. v. 5. 
wall, we may behold the hand, but see not the 
spring that moves it. The success of that petty 
province of Holland (of which the Grand Seign- 
ior proudly said, if they should trouble him as 
they did the Spaniard, he would send his men 
with shovels and pickaxes, and throw it into the 
sea) I cannot altogether ascribe to the ingenuity 
and industry of the people, but the mercy of 
God, that hath disposed them to such a thriving 
genius ; and to the will of his providence, that 
disposeth her favour to each country in their 
preordinate season. All cannot be happy at 
once ; for, because the glory of one state de- 
pends upon the ruin of another, there is a revo- 
lution and vicissitude of their greatness ; and 
they must obey the swing of that wheel, not 



38 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

moved by intelligences, but by the hand of 1 

God, whereby all estates arise to their zenith \ 

and vertical points, according to their predesti- i 

nated periods. For the lives, not only of men, | 

but of commonwealths, and the whole world, | 

run not upon an helix that still enlargeth, but \ 
on a circle, where arriving to their meridian, 

they decline in obscurity, and fall under the i 

horizon again.* 1 

The term XVIII. Thcse must uot therefore be named | 

used in a tlic cfFccts of fortuuc but in a relative way, and .; 

relative ^g ^^ term the works of nature : it was the ' 

ignorance of man s reason that begat this very . 
name, and by a careless term miscalled the 

providence of God ; for there is no liberty for ' 

causes to operate in a loose and straggling way ; '\ 

nor any efPect whatsoever, but hath its warrant j 

from some universal or superior cause. It is '] 

not a ridiculous devotion to say a prayer before j 

a game at tables ; for even in sortilegies and i 

matters of greatest uncertainty, there is a set- \ 

tied and preordered course of effects.f It is i 

we that are blind, not fortune : because our eye j 

is too dim to discover the mystery of her effects, j 

* This subject is discussed in an Essay by the Rev. A. P. 

Stanley, to which one of the Chancellor's Prizes was awarded, j 
Oxford, 1S40. 

Cf. Herod, i. 207. 

t " The lot is cast into the lap : but the whole disposing there- 
of is of the Lord." Prov. xvi. 33. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 39 

we foolishly paint her blind, and hoodwink the 
providence of the Almighty.* I cannot justify 
that contemptible proverb, That fools only are 
fortunate^ or that insolent paradox, That a wise 
man is out of the reach of fortune^ much less 
those opprobrious epithets of poets, Whore^ baud, 
and strumpet.-f It is, I confess, the common 
fate of men of singular gifts of mind, to be des- 
titute of those of fortune, which doth not any 
way deject the spirit of wiser judgments, who 
thoroughly understand the justice of this pro- 
ceeding ; and being enriched with higher dona- 
tives, cast a more careless eye on these vulgar 
parts of felicity. It is a most unjust ambition 
to desire to engross the mercies of the Almighty, 
not to be content with the goods of mind, with- 
out a possession of those of body or fortune ; and 
it is an error worse than heresy, to adore these 
complemental and circumstantial pieces of felici- 
ty, and undervalue those perfections and essen- 
tial points of happiness wherein we resemble 
our Maker. To wiser desires it is satisfaction 
enough to deserve, though not to enjoy the 
favours of fortune : let providence provide for 
fools ; it is not partiality, but equity in God, 

* Cf. Bp. Butler's xvth Sermon, 
t So Dryden : — 

" But when she dances on the wind, 
And shakes her wings, and will not stay, 
I pufF the prostitute away." 



40 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

who deals with us but as our natural parents : 
those that are able of body and mind he leaves 
to their deserts ; to those of weaker merits he 
imparts a larger portion, and pieces out the 
defect of one by the excess of the other. Thus 
have we no just quarrel with nature for leaving 
us naked; or to envy the horns, hoofs, skins, 
and furs of other creatures, being provided with 
reason, that can supply them all.* We need 
not labour with so many arguments to confute 
judicial astrology ; for if there be a truth there- 
in, it doth not injure divinity : if to be born 
under Mercury disposeth us to be witty, under 
Jupiter to be wealthy, I do not owe a knee 
unto these, but unto that merciful hand that 
hath ordered my indifferent and uncertain na- 
tivity unto such benevolous aspects. Those 

* He were a strange fool that should be angry because dogs 
and sheep need no shoes, and yet himself is full of care to get 
some: God hath supplied those needs to them by natural pro- 
visions, and to thee by an artificial . for He hath given thee rea- 
son to learn a trade, or some means to make or buy them, so that 
it only differs in the manner of our provision ; and which had 
you rather want, shoes or reason? Taylor's Holy Living, p. 99. 
So Anacreon: — 

(f)v(ris Kepara ravpois 

OTrXas 5' edcoKfv Ittttois 

TrobcoKLrjv \ay coots , 

\eovo-i X^^H-* odovTiovj 

Tols lx6vcnv TO VqKTOV 

rots opveois TreTaadat 

Tols dvbpdo-iv <\)p6vr]jia. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 41 

that hold that all tlimgs are governed by fortune, 
had not erred, had they not persisted there. 
The Romans that erected a temple to Fortune, 
acknowledged therein, though in a blinder way, 
somewhat of divinity ; for in a wise supputa- 
tion all things begin and end in the Almighty. 
There is a nearer way to heaven than Homer's 
chain ; * an easy logic may conjoin heaven and 
earth in one argument, and with less than a 
sorites resolve all things into God. For though 
we christen effects by their most sensible and 
nearest causes, yet is God the true and infal- 
lible cause of all, whose concourse, though it 
be general, yet doth it subdivide itself into the 
particular actions of everything, and is that 
spirit, by which each singular essence not only 
subsists, but performs its operation. 

XIX. The bad construction and perverse Danger of 

., ' . p -I confound- 

comment on these pair or second causes, or j^g ^j^^ 
visible hands of God, have perverted the de- ^'^^^ ^'^^ 

. IP . Second 

votion of many unto atheism, who lorgettmg 
the honest advisoes of faith, have listened unto 
the conspiracy of passion and reason. [I have, 
therefore, always endeavoured to compose those 
feuds and angry dissensions between affection, 
faith, and reason ; for there is in our soul a kind 
of triumvirate, or triple government of three 
competitors, which distract the peace of this our 

* Iliad, viii. 18. 



Reason 
Faith. 



42 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

commonwealth, not less than did that other the 
state of Rome. 
Passion. As reason is a rebel mito faith, so passion 
unto reason : as the propositions of faith seem 
absurd unto reason, so the theorems of reason 
mito passion, and both unto reason ; yet a mod- 
erate and peaceable discretion may so state and 
order the matter, that they may be all kings, 
and yet make but one monarchy, every one 
exercising his sovereignty and prerogative in 
a due time and place, according to the restraint 
and limit of circumstance. There are, as in 
philosophy, so in divinity, sturdy doubts and 
boisterous objections, wherewith the unhappi- 
ness of our knowledge too nearly acquainteth us. 
More of these no man hath known than myself, 
which I confess I conquered, not in a martial 
posture, but on my knees. For our endeavours 
are not only to combat with doubts, but always 
to dispute with the devil : the villany of that 
spu'it takes a hint of infidelity from our studies, 
and by demonstrating a naturality in one way, 
makes us mistrust a miracle in another. Thus 
having perused the Archidoxes^ and read the 
secret sympathies of things, he would dissuade 
my belief from the miracle of the brazen ser- 
pent, make me conceit that image worked by 
sympathy, and was but an Egyptian trick to 
cure their diseases without a miracle. Again, 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 43 \ 

1 

having seen some experiments of bitumen^ and \ 

having read far more of naphtha^ he whispered j 
to my curiosity the fire of the altar might be 
natm'al ; and bid me mistrust a miracle in Elias, i Kings, 

when he entrenched the altar round with water ; ^^^' .• 

for that inflammable substance yields not easily \ 

unto water, but flames in the arms of its antag- | 

onist. And thus would he inveigle my belief \ 

to think the combustion of Sodom might be Gen. xix. ; 

. 24. 

natural, and that there was an asphaltic and ' : 

bituminous nature in that lake before the fire j 

of Gomorrah. I know that manna is now ] 

plentifully gathered in Calabria; and Josephus I 

tells me, in his days it was as plentiful in \ 

Arabia ; the devil therefore made the query, i 

Where was then the miracle m the days of Ex.xTi. j 

Moses? The Israelites saw but that in his 
time, which the natives of those countries be- ! 

hold in ours. Thus the devil played at chess \ 

with me, and yielding a pawn, thought to gain ] 

a queen of me, taking advantage of my honest i 

endeavours ; and whilst I laboured to raise the 
structure of my reason, he strived to undermine 
the edifice of my faith. 

XX. Neither had these, or any other, ever Atheism \ 

^ ^ , n j. • T i can hardly 

such advantage oi me, as to mclme me to any ^^j^^. j 

point of infidelity or desperate positions of atlie- | 

ism ; for I have been these many years of opin- 1 

ion there was never any. Those that held 1 



44 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

religion was the difference of man from beasts, 
have spoken probably, and proceed upon a 
principle as inductive as the other. That doc- 
trine of Epicurus, that denied the providence 
of God, was no atheism, but a magnificent and 
high-strained conceit of his majesty, which he 
deemed too sublime to mind the trivial actions 
of those inferior creatures. That fatal necessi- 
ty of the stoics is nothing but the immutable 
law of his will. Those that heretofore denied 
the divinity of the Holy Ghost, have been con- 
demned but as heretics; and those that now 
deny our Saviour, (though more than heretics,) 
are not so much as atheists ; for though they 
deny two persons in the Trinity, they hold as 
we do, there is but one God. 

That villain and secretary of hell, that com- 
posed that miscreant piece of the three impos- 
tors, though divided from all religions, and was 
neither Jew, Turk, nor Christian,, was not a 
positive atheist. I confess every country hath 
its Machiavel, every age its Lucian, whereof 
common heads must not hear, nor more ad- 
vanced judgments too rashly venture on : it is 
the rhetoric of Satan, and may pervert a loose 
or prejudicate belief, 
inconsist- XXI. T coufcss I have perused them all, 
and can discover nothing that may startle a 
discreet belief; yet are their heads carried off 



ency of 
unbelief. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 45 

with the wmd and breath of such motives. I 
remember a Doctor in Physic of Italy, who 
could not perfectly believe the immortality of 
the soul, because Galen seemed to make a doubt 
thereof. With another I was familiarly ac- 
quainted in France, a divine, and a man of 
singular parts, that on the same point was so 
plunged and gravelled with three lines of Sen- 
eca, that all our antidotes, drawn from both 
Scripture and philosophy, could not expel the 
poison of his error. There are a set of heads 
that can credit the relations of mariners, yet 
question the testimonies of St. Paul; and per- 
emptorily maintain the traditions of -/Elian or 
Pliny, yet in histories of Scripture raise queries 
and objections, believing no more than they 
can parallel in human authors. I confess there 
are in Scripture stories that do exceed the fables 
of poets, and to a captious reader sound like 
Garagantua or Beviss search all the legends 
of times past, and the fabulous conceits of these 
present, and it will be hard to find one that 
deserves to carry the buckler unto Samson ; 
yet is all this of an easy possibility, if we con- 
ceive a divine concourse, or an influence but 
from the little finger of the Almighty. It is Manyques- 
impossible that either in the discourse of man, ^erai^ed^ 
or in the infallible voice of God, to the weak- not worthy 

P X ' J.1 1 1 1 J. of solutiouo 

ness or our apprehensions, there should not 



46 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

appear irregularities, contradictions, and an- 
tinomies : myself could show a catalogue of 
doubts, never yet imagined or questioned, as 
I know, wliicli are not resolved at the first 
hearing ; not fantastic queries or objections of 
air, for I cannot hear of atoms in divinity.* 
I can read the history of the pigeon that was 
sent out of the ark and returned no more, yet 
not question how she found out her mate that 
was left behind : that Lazarus was raised from 
the dead, yet not demand where in the interim 
his soul awaited ; or raise a law-case, whether 
his heir might lawfully detain his inheritance 
bequeathed unto him by his death, and he, 
though restored to life, have no plea or title 
unto his former possessions. Whether Eve was 
framed out of the left side of Adam, I dispute 
not, because I stand not yet assured which is 
the right side of a man, or whether there be 
any such distinction in nature : that she was 
edified out of the rib of Adam I believe, yet 
raise no question who shall arise with that rib 
at the resurrection : whether Adam was an 
hermaphrodite, as the Rabbins contend upon 
the letter of the text, because it is contrary to 

* " He who believes the Scripture to have proceeded from him 
who is the Author of Nature, may well expect to find the same 
sort of difficulties in it as are found in the Constitution of Na- 
ture." Origen, quoted by Butler in Introduct. to Anal. 



RELIGIO MEDICI, 47 

reason that there should be an hermaphrodite 
before there was a woman, or a composition 

of two natures before there was a second com- i 

posed. Likewise, whether the world was created | 

in autumn, summer, or spring, because it was j 

created in them all ; for whatsoever sign the '\ 

sun possesseth, those four seasons are actually i 

existent. It is the nature of this luminary to '< 

distinguish the several seasons of the year, all s 

which it makes at one time in the whole earth, I 

and successive in any part thereof. There are I 

a bundle of curiosities, not only in philosophy, | 

but in divinity, proposed and discussed by men \ 

of most supposed abilities, which indeed are | 

not worthy our vacant hours, much less our I 
serious studies : pieces only fit to be placed in 

Pantagruel's library, or bound up with Tarta- i 

retus de modo cacandi. I 

XXII. These are niceties that become not And others i 
those that peruse so serious a mystery. There ^^^^^ *'® 
are others more generally questioned and called raised, may 

to the bar, yet methinks of an easy and possible goiv^!^ I 
truth. 

It is ridiculous to put off or drown the gen- i 

eral flood of Noah, in that particular inundation ;i 

of Deucalion : that there was a deluge once, i 

seems not to me so great a miracle, as that j 

i there is not one always. How all the kinds of j 

creatures, not only in their own bulks, but with j 



48 RELIGIO MEDICI. ■ 

a competency of food and sustenance, might be ; 
preserved in one ark, and within the extent j 
of three hundred cubits, to a reason that rightly ' 
examines it, will appear very feasible. There is : 
another secret not contained in the Scripture, \ 
which is more hard to comprehend, and put \ 
the honest Father to the refuge of a miracle ; * -, 
and that is, not only how the distinct pieces of 
the world, and divided islands, should be first \ 
planted by men, but inhabited by tigers, pan- * 
thers, and bears. How America abounded with , 
beasts of prey and noxious animals, yet con- 
tained not in it that necessary creature, a horse, \ 
is very strange. By what passage those ani- 
mals, not only birds, but dangerous and unwel- .1 
come beasts, came over; how there be creatures j 
there which are not found in this triple conti- ] 
nent ; all which must needs be strange unto us, \ 
that hold but one ark, and that the creatures \ 
began their progress from the mountains of 
Ararat. They who to salve this would make^ 
the deluge particular, proceed upon a principle 
that I can no way grant; not only upon the 
negative of Holy Scriptures, but of mine own 
reason, whereby I can make it probable that-^ 



* St. Augustine (De Civ. Dei, xvi. 7) says that this might] 
have been miraculously effected, but he does not say it could, 
not have been done without a miracle. See Burnet's Sacred 
Theory of the Earth, lib. ii. c. 8. -i. 



RELIGIO MEDICI, 49 

the world was as well peopled in the time of 
Noah as in ours ; and fifteen hundred years to 
people the world, as full a time for them, as 
four thousand years since have been to us. 
There are other assertions and common tenets 
di'awn from Scripture, and generally believed as 
Scripture, whereunto, notwithstanding, I would 
never betray the liberty of my reason. 'Tis a 
postulate to me that Methusalem was the long- Gen. t. 5. 
est liA^ed of all the children of Adam; and no 
man will be able to prove it, when from the 
process of the text I can manifest it may be 
otherwise.* That Judas perished by hanging 
himself, there is no certainty in Scripture ; 
though in one place it seems to affirm it, and s. Matt. 
by a doubtful word hath given occasion to trans- 
late it ; yet in another place, in a more punctual Acts, i. is 
description, it makes it improbable, and seems 
to overthrow it. That our fathers, after the 
flood, erected the tower of Babel, to preserve 
themselves against a second deluge, is generally 
opinioned and believed ; yet is there another 
intention of theirs expressed in Scripture : be- Gen. xi. 4. 
sides, it is improbable from the circumstance of 
the place, that is, a plain in the land of Shinar : 
these are no points of faith, and therefore may 

* His meaning is, that as Adam was created a man in the 
prime of life, we may add forty years to the term of his actual 
existence. 

4 



50 RELIGIO MEDICI. \ 

j 
admit a free dispute. There are yet others, \ 

and those famiharly concluded from the text, \ 

wherem (mider favour) I see no consequence. \ 

The Church of Rome confidently proves the 

opinion of tutelary angels, from that answer 

Acts, xii. when Peter knocked at the door, It is not he^ 
hut his angel; that is, might some say, his mes- 
senger, or somebody from him ; for so the origi- 
nal signifies, and is as likely to be the doubtful 
family's meaning. This exposition I once sug- 
gested to a young divine, that answered upon 
this point ; to which I remember the Francis- 
can opponent replied no more, but, that it was } 
a neiv^ and no authentic interpretation. 

The Bible XXIII. Thcsc are but the conclusions and; 

boiler ^ fallible discourses of man upon the word of 
God, for such I do believe the Holy Scriptures | 
yet were it of man, I could not choose but 
say, it was the singularest and superlative piece 
that hath been extant since the creation. Wera 
I a pagan I should not refrain the lecture off 
it; and cannot but commend the judgment of ;> 
Ptolemy,* that thought not his hbrary complete*)] 

* When Ptolemy Philadelphus, king of Egypt, founded theoj 
library at Alexandria, he placed it under the care of Demetriusjl 
Phalereus, an Athenian, who persuaded his royal master to adda 
to it the books of the Jewish law. The king wrote to Eleazar,Wj 
then high-priest, for them ; who not only sent him the books, bufcl 
with them seventy-two intei-preters, skilled in both the Hebrewv 
and Greek tongues, to translate them for him into Greek. Their r| 
labours produced the version called the Septuagint. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 51 

without it. The Alcoran of the Turks (I 
speak without prejudice) is an ill-composed 
piece, containing in it vain and ridiculous errors 
in philosophy, impossibilities, fictions, and vani- 
ties beyond laughter ; maintained by evident 
and open sophisms, the policy of ignorance, 
deposition of universities, and banishment of 
learning: this hath gotten foot by arms and 
violence : that without a blow hath disseminated 
itself through the whole earth. It is not un- 
remarkable what Philo first observed, that the 
law of Moses continued two thousand years 
without the least alteration ; whereas, we see 
the laws of other commonweals do alter with 
occasions ; and even those that pretended their 
original from some divinity, to have vanished 
without trace or memory. I believe, besides 
Zoroaster, there were divers that writ before 
Moses, who notwithstanding have suffered the 
common fate of time. Men's works have an 
age like themselves ; and though they outlive 
their authors, yet have they a stint and period 
to their duration ; this only is a work too hard 
for the teeth of time, and cannot perish but in 
the general flames, when all things shall confess 
their ashes. 

XXIV. I have heard some with deep sighs "Of mak- 
[lament the lost lines of Cicero ; others with as ^° o^^^g,.e 
many groans deplore the combustion of the ia no end," 



32,33. 



52 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

Ecci. xii. library of Alexandria ; * for my own part, I 
think there be too many in the world, and 
could with patience behold the urn and ashes 
of the Vatican, could I, with a few others, 

1 Kings iy. rccoYcr the perished leaves of Solomon. I 
would not omit a copy of Enoch's Pillars had 
they many nearer authors than Josephus,f or 
did not relish somewhat of the fable. Some 
men have written more than others have spo- 
ken : Pineda quotes more authors in one work, 
than are necessary in a whole world. J Of 
those three great inventions in Germany, there 
are two which are not without their incom- 

modities.§ It is not a melancholy utinam of my 

1 

* See D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature. I 

t For this, the story is, that Enoch, or his father Seth, having \ 
been informed by Adam, that the world was to perish once by ■ 
water, and a second time by fire, did cause two pillars to be erect- J 
ed; the one of stone against the water, and another of brick i 
against the fire ; and that upon those pillars was engraven all such ! 
learning as had been delivered to, or invented by mankind ; and \ 
that thence it came that all knowledge and learning was not lost i 
by means of the flood, by reason that one of the pillars (though ' 
the other perished) did remain after the flood: and Josejihus ., 
witnesseth, till his time, lib. i. Antiq. Judaic, cap. 3. K. This, • 
though a tale, is truly moralized in the universities : Cambridge ; 
(of brick) and Oxford (of stone) wherein learning and religion . 
are preserved, and where the worst college is more sightworthy j 
than the best Dutch gymnasium. Fuller's Holy State, xliv. \ 

X Pineda^ in his Monarchia Ecclesiastica, quotes one thousand ) 
and forty authors. ^ 

§ In all probability he means printing, gunpowder, and the { 
mariner's compass, or perhaps clocks: but it seems doubtful j 
whether all these were not known to the Chinese before the gen- \ 
erally received date of their invention. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 53 

own, but tlie desires of better heads, that there 
were a general synod ; not to unite the incom- 
patible difference of religion, but for the benefit 
of learning, to reduce it as it lay at first, in a 
few and solid authors ; and to condemn to the 
fire those swarms and millions of rhapsodies 
begotten only to distract and abuse the weaker 
judgments of scholars, and to maintain the trade 
and mystery of typographers. 

XXV. I cannot but wonder with what ex- obstinacy 
ceptions the Samaritans could confine their be- ^^^^^'^^^^ 
lief to the Pentateuch, or five books of Moses. 
I am ashamed at the rabbinical interpretation 
of the Jews, upon the Old Testament, as much 
as their defection from the New : and truly it 
is beyond wonder, how that contemptible and 
degenerate issue of Jacob, once so devoted to 
ethnic superstition, and so easily seduced to the 
idolatry of their neighbours, should now in such 
an obstinate and peremptory belief adhere unto 
their own doctrine, expect impossibilities, and, 
in the face and eye of the Church, persist 
without the least hope of conversion : this is a 
vice in them, that were a virtue in us ; for 
obstinacy in a bad cause is but constancy in a 
good. And herein I must accuse those of my and want 

, . . n l^ ' i r» i of constan- 

own religion, tor there is not any or sucn a cy among 
fugitive faith, such an unstable belief, as a christians. 
Christian ; none that do so often transform 



54 RELIGIO MEDICI. \ 

themselves, not unto several shapes of Chris- j 
tianity, and of the same species, but unto more j 
unnatural and contrary forms of Jew and Ma- ;; 
hometan ; that from the name of Saviour, can '; 
condescend to the bare term of prophet ; and ! 
from an old belief that he is come, fall to a ! 
new expectation of his coming. It is the prom- ' 
ise of Christ to make us all one flock ; but how ' 
and when this union shall be, is as obscure to i 
me as the last day. Of those four members of \ 
religion we hold a slender proportion ; * there ' 
are, I confess, some new additions, yet small to ; 
those which accrue to our adversaries, and those ' 
only drawn from the revolt of Pagans, men but • 
of negative impieties, and such as deny Christ, ' 
but because they never heard of him : but the \ 
religion of the Jews is expressly against the j 
Christian, and the Mahometan against both ; for : 
the Turk in the bulk he now stands, is beyond ; 
all hope of conversion ; if he fall asunder, there : 
may be conceived hopes, but not without strong ' 
improbabilities. The Jew is obstinate in all ; 
fortunes ; the persecution of fifteen hundred i 
years hath but confirmed them in their error: ' 

* The population of our globe has been divided thus : — , 

Christians 260,000,000 

Jews 4,000,000 

Mahometans 96,000,000 j 

Idolaters of all sorts .... 600,000,000 i 

Total population of the world . . 860,000,000 | 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 55 

they have ah-eacly endured whatsoever may be 
inflicted, and have suffered in a bad cause, even 
to the condemnation of their enemies. Perse- 
cution is a bad and indirect way to plant rehg- 
ion ; it hath been the unhappy method of angry 
devotions, not only to confirm honest religion, 
but wicked heresies, and extravagant opinions. 
It was the first stone and basis of our faith; The blood 
none can more justly boast of persecutions, and 1^^^^^^^^ 
o-lory in the number and valour of martyrs ; of ^^^ 

n 1 11 11 Church. 

for, to speak properly, those are true and al- 
most only examples of fortitude : those that are 
fetched from the field, or drawn from the ac- 
tions of the camp, are not ofttimes so truly 
precedents of valour as audacity, and at the 
best attain but to some bastard piece of forti- 
tude : if we shall strictly examine the circum- 
stances and requisites which Aristotle requires 
to true and perfect valour, we shall find the 
name only in his master Alexander, and as 
Jittle in that Roman worthy, Julius Caesar; 
and if any, in that easy and active way, have 
done so nobly as to deserve that name, yet in 
the passive and more terrible piece, these have 
surpassed, and in a more heroical way may 
claim the honour of that title. It is not in the 
power of every honest faith to proceed thus far, 
or pass to heaven through the flames: every 
one hath it not in that full measure, nor in so 



56 RELIGIO MEDICI. \ 

audacious and resolute a temper, as to endure ; 
those terrible tests and trials ; who, notwith- '■> 
standuig, in a peaceable way do truly adore their , 
Saviour, and have, no doubt, a faith acceptable ' 
in the eyes of God. ■ 

Not all are XXVI. : Now as all that die in the war are ; 
whoTuffer ^^^^ termed sokhers ; so neither can I properly \ 
iu matters term all those that suffer in matters of religion, ! 
^^ &^^- i^artyrs. The Council of Constance condemns ■ 
John Huss for an heretic ; the stories of his ; 
own party style him a martyr. He must needs 
offend the divinity of both, that says he was ' 
neither the one nor the other.* There are \ 
many, (questionless,) canonized on earth, that ' 
shall never be saints in heaven ; and have their 
names in histories and martyrologies, who in 
the eyes of God are not so perfect martyrs as j 
was that wise heathen Socrates, that suffered 
on a fundamental point of religion, the unity ^ 
of God. I have often pitied that miserable \ 
bishop that suffered in the cause of Antipodes ; f j 
yet cannot choose but accuse him of as much ! 
madness, for exposing his living on such a trifle, ; 
as those of ignorance and folly, that condemned ] 
him. I think my conscience will not give me \ 

* The Bodleian MS. reads, Is it false divinity, if I say he was j 
neither one or the other? j 

t This was Virgilius, Bishop of Saltzburg. He died November '[ 
27, 780. See Curiosities of Literature, and Whewell's History of ^ 
the Inductive Sciences, vol. i. p. 256. i 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 57 

the lie, if I say there are not many extant that 
in a noble way fear the face of death less than 
myself; yet from the moral duty I owe to the 
commandment of God, and the natural respects 
that I tender imto the conservation of my es- 
sence and being, I would not perish upon a 
ceremony, politic points, or indifFerency : nor 
is my belief of that untractable temper, as not 
to bow at their obstacles, or connive at matters 
wherein there are not manifest impieties ; the 
leaven therefore and ferment of all, not only 
civil but religious actions, is wisdom ; without 
which, to commit ourselves to the flames is 
homicide, and, I fear, but to pass through one 
fire into another. 

XXVII. That miracles are ceased, I can of mira- 
neither prove, nor absolutely deny, much less ^^^^' 
define the time and period of tlieir cessation: 
that they survived Christ, is manifest upon 
record of Scripture ; that they outlived the 
Apostles also, and were revived at the conver- 
sion of nations, many years after, we cannot de- 
ny, if we shall not question those writers whose 
testimonies we do not controvert in points that 
make for our own opinions ; therefore that may 
have some truth in it that is reported by the 
Jesuits of tlieir miracles in the Indies. I could 
wish it were true, or had any other testimony 
than their own pens : they may easily beheve 



easy to 
God. 



58 RELIGIO MEDICI. j 

tliose miracles abroad, wlio daily conceive a ' 

greater at home, the transmutation of those i 
visible elements into the body and blood of our 

Saviour : for the conversion of water into wine, ' 

which he wrought in Cana, or what the devil ^ 

would have had him done in the wilderness, j 

of stones into bread, compared to this, will | 

All equally scarcc dcscrve the name of a miracle : though \ 

indeed, to speak properly, there is not one \ 

miracle greater than another, they being the | 

extraordinary eflPects of the hand of God, to \ 

which all things are of an equal facihty; and to i 

create the world, as easy as one single creature ; : 

for this is also a miracle, not only to produce j 

effects against or above nature, but before na- ', 

ture ; and to create nature, as great a miracle ■ 

as to contradict or transcend her. We do too i 
narrowly define the power of God, restraining 

it to our capacities. I hold that God can do I 

all things : how he should work contradictions ; 

i 

I do not understand, yet dare not therefore 3 
deny. I cannot see why the angel of God ■ 
should question Esdras to recall the time past, ] 
if it were beyond his own power ; or that God i' 
should pose mortality in that which he was not \ 
able to perform himself. I will not say God 
cannot, but he will not, perform many things, 1 
which we plainly affirm he cannot : this I am \ 
sure is the mannerhest proposition, wherein, ■ 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 59 

notwithstanding, I hold no paradox. For strict- 
ly, his power is the same with his will, and 
they both with all the rest do make but one 
God. : 

XXVIII. Therefore that miracles have been, aii reia- 1 
I do beheve ; that they may yet be wroup-ht *'°°^ f ' 

' J J J o miracles j 

by the living, I do not deny ; but have no con- not to be j 
fidence in those which are fathered on the dead ; ^y^l^ 1 

and this hath ever made me suspect the efficacy i 

of relics, to examine the bones, question the \ 

habits and appurtenances of saints, and even j 

of Christ himself. I cannot conceive why the I 

cross that Helena found, and whereon Christ i 

himself died, should have power to restore ' 

others unto life : I excuse not Constantine from i 

a fall off his horse, or a mischief from his ene- i 

mies, upon the wearing those nails on his bridle, i 

which our Saviour bore upon the cross in his 
hands : I compute among your 'pice fraudes, nor 
many degrees before consecrated swords and 
roses, that which Baldwyn king of Jerusalem 
returned the Genovese for their cost and pains 
in his war, to wit, the ashes of John the Baptist. 
Those that hold the sanctity of their souls doth 
leave behind a tincture and sacred faculty on 
their bodies, speak naturally of miracles, and 
do not salve the doubt. Now one reason I 
tender so little devotion unto relics is, I think, 
the slender and doubtful respect I have always 



60 RELIGIO MEDICL i 

held unto antiquities ; for that indeed which I \ 
admire is far before antiquity, that is, eternity ; i 
and that is, God himself; who though he be j 

Dan. vii. styled the Ancient of Days, cannot receive the \ 
adjunct of antiquity, who was before the world, \ 
and shall be after it, yet is not older than it ; ? 
for in his years there is no climacter ; his dura- 
tion is eternity, and far more venerable than i 
antiquity. * 

Oracles. XXIX. But above all things, I wonder how ; 
the curiosity of wiser heads could pass that \ 
great and indisputable miracle, the cessation of * 
oracles ; and in what swoon their reasons lay, 
to content themselves, and sit down with such 
a far-fetched and ridiculous reason as Plutarclj.y 
allegeth for it. The Jews, that can believe 
the supernatural solstice of the sun in the days 
of Joshua, have yet the impudence to deny 
the eclipse, which every pagan confessed at his 
death i but for this it is evident beyond all 
contradiction, the devil himself confessed it.* 
Certainly it is not a warrantable curiosity, to 
examine the verity of Scripture by the concor- 
dance of human history, or seek to confirm the 
chronology of Hester or Daniel, by the author- 
ity of Magasthenes or Herodotus ; I confess, 
I have had an unhappy curiosity this way, 
till I laughed myself out of it with a piece of 

* In his oracle to Augustus. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 61 ' 

i 

Justin,* where he dehvers, that the children ' 

of Israel for being scabbed were banished out j 

of Egypt. And truly since I have understood j 

the occurrences of the world, and know in \ 

what counterfeiting shapes and deceitful viz- * 

ards times present represent on the stage things i 

past, I do believe them little more than things I 

to come. Some have been of my opinion, and i 
endeavoured to write the history of their own 

lives ; wherein Moses hath outgone them all, j 

and left not only the story of his life, but, as ^ 
some will have it, of his death also. 

XXX. It is a riddle to me, how this story witchcraft. ; 
of oracles hath not wormed out of the world 
that doubtful conceit of spirits and witches ; j 
how so many learned heads should so far forget 
their metaphysics, and destroy the ladder and j 
scale of creatures, as to question the existence S 
of spirits. For my part, I have ever believed, ^ 
and do now know, that there are witches : they 
that doubt of these, do not only deny them, | 
but spirits ; and are obliquely, and upon con- 
sequence, a sort not of infidels, but atheists. 
Those that to confute their incredulity desire 
to see apparitions, shall questionless never be- 
hold any, nor have the power to be so much \ 
as witches ; the devil hath them already in a j 
heresy as capital as witchcraft ; and to appear 1 

* Justin. Hist. lib. 36. Cf. Tacitus Hist. lib. v. j 



62 RELIGIO MEDICI. 






to them, were but to convert tliem. Of all 
the delusions wherewith he deceives mortality, 
there is not any that puzzleth me more than 
the legerdemain of changelings.* I do not 
credit those transformations of reasonable crea- 
tures into beasts, — or that the devil hath power 
to transpeciate a man into a horse, who tempted 
Christ (as a trial of his divinity) to convert \ 
but stones into bread. I could believe that 5 
spirits use with man the act of carnality, and \ 
that in both sexes ; I conceive they may as- ) 
sume, steal, or contrive a body, wherein there j 
may be action enough to content decrepit lust, j 
or passion to satisfy more active veneries ; yet j 
in both, without a possibility of generation : f ! 
and therefore that opinion that Antichrist should . 
be born of the tribe of Dan by conjunction ' 
with the devil, is ridiculous, and a conceit fitter ■ 
for a rabbin than a Christian. I hold that the ■ 
devil doth really possess some men, the spirit i 
of melancholy others, the spirit of delusion oth- \ 
ers ; that as the devil is concealed and denied i 



* " From thence a Faery thee unweeting reft, ;? 

There as thou slepst in tender swadhng band, \ 

And her base Elfin brood there for thee left: | 

Such men do Chaungelings call, so chaung'd by Faeries theft." \ 

Faery Queene, i. x. 65. \ 

See Mids. Night's Dream, ii. 1. ] 
Luther's Divine Discourses, folio, p. 387. 

t See Taylor's Holy Living, c. 2, S. 3, p. 64. i 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 63 

by some, so God and good angels are pretended 
by others, whereof the late defection * of the 
maid of Germany hath left a pregnant example. 

XXXI. Again, I believe that all that use Philosophy 
sorceries, incantations, and spells are not witch- ^^^^ 
es, or, as we term them, magicians. I conceive ^^^^"^ 
there is a traditional magic, not learned imme- 
diately from the devil, but at second hand from 
his scholars, Avho, having once the secret be- 
trayed, are able, and do empirically practise 
without his advice, they both proceeding upon 
the principles of nature ; where actives aptly 
conjoined to disposed passives will under any 
master produce their effects. Thus, I think at 
first a great part of philosophy was witchcraft, 
which being afterward derived to one another, 
proved but philosophy, and was indeed no more 
but the honest effects of nature : what invented 
by us, is philosophy, learned from him, is magic. 
We do surely owe the discovery of many secrets The eug- 
to the discovery of good and bad angels. I angeis. 
could never pass that sentence of Paracelsus, 
without an asterisk, or annotation : f ascendens 
astrum multa revelat qucerentibus magnalia na- 
turce, i. e. opera Dei. I do think that many 
mysteries ascribed to our own inventions have 

* Defection. MS. W. reads detection. 

t Thereby is meant our good angel appointed us from our 
nativity. 



64 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

been the courteous revelations of spirits; for 
those noble essences in heaven bear a friendly 
regard unto their fellow natures on earth ; and 
therefore believe that those many prodigies and 
ominous prognostics, which forerun the ruins 
of states, princes, and private persons, are the 
charitable premonitions of good angels, which 
more careless inquiries term but the effects of 
chance and nature. 
The Spirit XXXII. Now bcsidcs these particular and 
fused ^ divided spirits there may be (for aught I know) 
through- an universal and common spirit to the whole 
world. world. It was the opinion of Plato, and it 
is yet of the Hermetical philosophers : if there 
be a common nature that unites and ties the 
scattered and divided individuals into one spe- 
cies, why may there not be one that unites 
them all ? However, I am sure there is a 
common spirit that plays within us, yet makes 
no part of us ; and that is, the Spirit of God, 
the fire and scintillation of that noble and mighty 
essence Avhich is the life and radical heat of 
spirits, and those essences that know not the 
virtue of the sun ; a fire quite contrary to the 
fire of hell : this is that gentle heat that brood- 
Gen, i. 2. ed on the waters, and in six days hatched the 
world ; this is that irradiation that dispels the 
mists of hell, the clouds of horror, fear, sorrow, 
despair ; and preserves the region of the mind 



RELIGIO MEDICI, 65 

in serenity : whosoever feels not the warm gale, 
and gentle ventilation of this spirit, (though I 
feel his pulse,) I dare not say he lives ; for 
truly without this, to me there is no heat under 
the tropic ; nor any light, though I dwelt in the 
body of the sun. 

As when the labouring Sun hath wrought his track 

Up to the top of lofty Cancer's back, 

The icy ocean cracks, the frozen pole 

Thaws with the heat of the celestial coal ; 

So when thy absent beams begin t' impart. 

Again a solstice on my frozen heart, 

My winter 's o'er, my drooping spirits sing. 

And every part revives into a Spring. 

But if thy quick'ning beams awhile decline. 

And with their light bless not this orb of mine, 

A chilly frost surpriseth every member, 

And in the midst of June I feel December. 

how this earthly temper doth debase 

The noble soul, in this her humble place. 

AVhose wingy nature ever doth aspire 

To reach that place whence first it took its fire. 

These flames I feel, which in my heart do dwell, 

Are not thy beams, but take their fire from hell ; 

quench them all, and let thy Light divine 

Be as the Sun to this poor orb of mine ; 

And to thy sacred Spirit convert those fires, 

Whose earthly fumes choke my devout aspires. 

XXXIII. Therefore for spirits, I am so far of guar- 
from denying their existence, that I could easily attendant 
beheve, that not only whole countries, but par- «pi"*s, 
ticular persons, have their tutelary and guardian 
angels: it is not a new opinion of the Church 
of Rome, but an old one of Pythagoras and 
5 



66 RELIGIO MEDICI. [ 

■i 

Plato ; there is no heresy in it ; and if not ; 
manifestly defined in Scripture, yet is it an \ 
opinion of a good and wholesome use in the . 
course and actions of a man's life, and would j 
serve as an hypothesis to salve many doubts, '\ 
whereof common philosophy affordeth no solu- j 
tion. Now if you demand my opinion and met- i 
aphysics of their natures, I confess them very ' 
shallow ; most of them in a negative way, hke : 
that of God ; or in a comparative, between our- ] 
selves and fellow-creatures ; for there is in this i 
universe a stair, or manifest scale of creatures, ] 
rising not disorderly, or in confusion, but with , 
a comely method and proportion : between crea- j 
tures of mere existence and things of life, there > 
is a large disproportion of nature ; betAveen plants l 
and animals or creatures of sense, a wider dif- | 
ference ; between them and man, a far greater : \ 
and if the proportion hold on, between man i 
and angels there should be yet a greater. We \ 
do not comprehend their natures, who retain J 
the first definition of Porphyry,* and distinguish i 
them from ourselves by immortality ; for before ■ 
his fall man also was immortal ; yet must we 1 
needs affirm that he had a different essence 
from the ano-els : havino; therefore no certain 
knowledge of their natures, 't is no bad method 
of the schools, whatsoever perfection we find^ 



* Essentice rationalis immortalis. 






RELIGIO MEDICI. 67 i 

I 
obscurely in ourselves, in a more complete and j 
absolute way to ascribe unto them. I believe • 
they have an extemporary knowledge, and upon ^ 
the first motion of their reason do what we j 
cannot without study or deliberation ; that they i 
know things by their forms, and define by | 
specifical difference what we describe by acci- 
dents and properties; and therefore probabili- \ 
ties to us may be demonstrations unto them: \ 
that they have knowledge not only of the spe- i 
cifical, but numerical forms of individuals, and : 
understand by what reserved difference each ■ 
single hypostasis (besides the relation to its 
species) becomes its numerical self: that as the 
soul hath a power to move the body it informs, j 
so there 's a faculty to move any, though inform ■■ 
none ; ours upon restraint of time, place, and 
distance ; but that invisible hand that conveyed Beiandthe | 
Habakkuk to the lion's den, or Philip to Azo- ^ctJ^'Ju. ' 
tus, infringeth this rule, and hath a secret con- 40. ; 
veyance, wherewith mortality is not acquainted : ! 
if they have that intuitive knowledge, whereby 
as in reflexion they behold the thoughts of one 
another, I cannot peremptorily deny but they | 
know a great part of ours. They that, to refute j 
the invocation of saints, have denied that they [ 
have any knowledge of our affairs below, have | 
proceeded too far, and must pardon my opinion, I 
till I can thoroughly answer that piece of Scrip- i 



68 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

St. Luke ture, at the conversion of a sinner, the angels in 
^^" '' * heaven rejoice.* I cannot with those in that 
father securely interpret the work of the first 
day, fiat lux, to the creation of angels ; though ; 
I confess, there is not any creature that hath : 
so near' a glimpse of their nature as light in I 
the sun and elements : we style it a bare acci- i 
dent ; but where it subsists alone 't is a spiritual ' 
substance, and may be an angel : in brief, con- i 
ceive light invisible, and that is a spirit. ; 

Man a Mi- XXXIV. (Thcse are certainly the magiste- .• 
croposm, ^,.^^1 ^^^^ master-pieces of the Creator, the flow- i 

partaking a ' ; 

of the Na- er, or (as we may say) the best part of nothing, ! 

created Es- actually cxistiug, what we are but in hopes | 

sences. ^^^^ probability : we are only that amphibious j 
piece between corporal and spiritual essence, \ 
that middle form that links those two together, 
and makes good the method of God and nature^ 
that jumps not from extremes, but unites the 
incompatible distances by some middle and par- 
ticipating natures. That we are the breath 

Gen. i. 26, and similitude of God, it is indisputable and 
' ' "* '• upon record of Holy Scripture: but to call our- 

* " Take any moral or religious book, and instead of under- 
standing each sentence according to the main purpose and inten- 
tion, interpret every phrase in its literal sense as conveying, and 
designed to convey, a metaphysical verity, or historical fact: — 
what a strange medley of doctrines should we not educe! Audi 
yet this is the way in which we are constantly in the habit of j 
treating the books of the New Testament." — Coleridge. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 69 

selves a microcosm, or little world,* I thought 
it only a pleasant trope of rhetoric, till my near 
judgment and second thoughts told me there 
was a real truth therein : for first we are a rude 
mass, and in the rank of creatures which only 
are, and have a dull kind of being not yet privi- 
leged with life, or preferred to sense or reason ; 
next we live the life of plants, the life of ani- 
mals, the life of men, and at last the life of 
spirits, running on in one mysterious nature, 
those five kind of existences, which comprehend 
the creatures, not only of the world, but of the 
universe. Thus is man that great and true 
amphibium^ whose nature is disposed to live not 
only like other creatures in divers elements, 
but in divided and distinguished worlds : for 
though there be but one world to sense, there 
are two to reason ; the one visible, the other 
invisible, whereof Moses seems to have left de- 
scription, and of the other so obscurely, that 
some parts thereof are yet in controversy. And 
truly for the first chapters of Genesis, I must 
confess a great deal of obscurity; though di- 
vines have to the power of human reason en- 
deavoured to make all go in a literal meaning, 
yet those allegorical interpretations are also 
probable, and perhaps the mystical method of 

* It was a saying of the Stoics: Bpa)(vu /xeV Koafiov rou av- 
dpcoTTov, fieyav 5e livdpcjTrov rou Kocruov eluai. 



70 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

Moses bred tip in the liieroglypliical schools of 
the ^Egyptians.* 
Of cre.1- XXXV. Now for the immaterial world, me- 
*^°°" thinks we need not wander so far as the first 
movable ; for even in this material fabric the 
spirits walk as freely exempt from the affection 
of time, place, and motion, as beyond the ex- 
tremest circumference : do but extract f from 
the corpulency of bodies, or resolve things be- 
yond their first matter, and you discover the 
habitation of angels, which if I call the ubiqui- 
tary and omnipresent essence of God, I hope I 
shall not offend divinity : for before the creation 
of the world, God was really all things. (For 
the angels he created no new world, or deter- 
minate mansion, and therefore they are every- 
s. Matt, where where is his essence, and do live at 
xviu. 10. ^ distance even in himself : that God made 
all things for man, is in some sense true, yet 
not so far as to subordinate the creation of those 
purer creatures unto ours, though as ministering 
spirits they do and are willing to fulfil the will 
of God in these lower and sublunary affairs of 

* " The second Chapter of Genesis from v. 4, and the third 
Chapter, are to my mind as evidently symbolical, as the first 
Chapter is literal. The first Chapter is manifestly by Moses 
himself; but the second and third seem to me of far higher an- 
tiquity, and have the air of being translated into words from 
graven stones." — Coleridge. 

t Abstract, MS. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 71 

man. God made all things for himself, and it 

is impossible he should make them for any other 

end than liis own glory ; it is all he can receive, 

and all that is without himself: for honour 

being an external adjunct, and in the honourer 

rather than in the person honoured, it was 

necessary to make a creature, from whom he 

might receive this homage, and that is in the 

other world, angels, in this, man ; which when 

we neglect, w^e forget the very end of our 

creation, and may justly provoke God, not only 

to repent that he hath made the world, but that Gen. vi. 6 ; 

he hath sworn he would not destroy it. That ^^"g^.^^^' 

there is but one world, is a conclusion of Faith. 

Aristotle with all his philosophy hath not been 

able to prove it, and as weakly that the world 

was eternal ; that dispute much troubled the pen 

of the ancient philosophers, but Moses decided 

that question, and all is salved with the new term 

of a creation, that is, a production of something 

out of nothing : and what is that ? * whatsoever 

is opposite to something, or more exactly that 

which is truly contrary unto God: for he only 

is, all others have an existence with dependency, 

and are something but by a distinction ; and 

herein is divinity conformant unto philosophy, 

and generation not only founded on contrarieties, 

but also creation ; God being all things, is con- 

* See Buckland's Bridgewater Treatise, vol. i. p. 22. 



72 RELIGIO MEDICI. \ 

\ 
trary unto nothing, out of whicli were made all ' 

things, and so nothing became something, and { 

omneity informed nulUty into an essence. | 

Man the XXXVI. ' The whole creation is a mystery, j 

^ecrof ^^^ particularly that of man: at the blast of : 

Creation, bis moutli wcrc tlic rcst of the creatures made, ; 

25. " and at his bare word they started out of noth- \ 

Gen. ii. 7. in^ : but in the frame of man Cas the text \ 

describes it) he played the sensible operator, \ 

and seemed not so much to create, as make ; 

him : when he had separated the materials of 

other creatures, there consequently resulted a , 

form and soul ; but having raised the walls of | 

man, he has driven to a second and harder i 

. . . . *J 

creation of substance like himself, an incorrupt- I 

ible and immortal soul. For these two affec- i 

tions we have the philosophy and opinion of ^ 

the heathens, the flat aflirmative of Plato, and j 

not a neo-ative from Aristotle. There is another i 

scruple cast in by divinity (concerning its pro- ,; 

duction) much disputed in the German audi- I 

tories, and with that indifforency and equality ^ 

of arguments, as leave the controversy unde- l 

termined. I am not of Paracelsus his mind,* ; 

that boldly delivers a receipt to make a man ' 

without conjunction ; yet cannot but wonder at 

the multitude of heads that do deny traduction, j 

* D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 73 

havino; no other aro-ument to confirm their be- 
lief, than that rhetorical sentence, and anti- 
metathesis of Augustine, Creando infunditur, in- 
fundendo creatur : either opinion will consist 
well enough with religion : yet I should rather 
incline to this, did not one objection haunt me, 
not wrong from speculations and subtilties, 
but from common sense, and observation ; not 
picked from the leaves of any author, but bred 
amongst the weeds and tares of mine own brain ; 
and this is a conclusion from the equivocal and 
monstrous productions in the copulation of a 
man with a beast : for if the soul of man be not 
transmitted, and transfused in the seed of the 
parents, why are not those productions merely 
beasts, but have also an impression and tincture 
of reason in as hiofh a measure as it can evi- 
dence itself in those improper organs? Nor 
truly can I peremptorily deny that the soul in 
this her sublunary estate is wholly, and in all 
acceptions, inorganical, but that for the per- 
formance of her ordinary actions is required 
not only a symmetry and proper disposition of 
organs, but a crasis and temper correspondent 
to its operations ; yet is not this mass of flesh 
and visible structure the instrument and proper 
corps of the soul, but rather of sense, and that 
the hand of reason. In our study of anatomy 
there is a mass of mysterious philosophy, and 



74 RELIGIO MEDICI. j 

'j 

such as reduced the very heathens to divinity : j 
yet amongst all these rare discoveries, and curi- \ 
ous pieces I find in the fabric of man, I do not < 
so much content myself, as in that I find not, — ; 
that is, no organ or instrument for the rational \ 
soul ; for in the brain, which we term the seat i 
of reason, there is not anything of moment ; 
more than I can discover in the crany of a ; 
beast : and this is a sensible, and no inconsid- 
erable argument of the inorganity of the soul, 
at least in that sense we usually so receive it. ; 
Thus we are men, and we know not how : there ] 
is something in us that can be without us, and ; 
will be after us ; though it is strange that it ^ 
hath no history what it was before us, nor can- \ 
not tell how it entered in us. | 

Of the XXXVII. (Now for these walls of flesh, ; 

bX- * ^ wherein the soul doth seem to be immured be- ;; 
fore the resurrection, it is nothing but an ele- I 
mental composition, and a fabric that must fall ^ 
Is. xi.6-8. to ashes. All flesh is grass, is not only meta- ; 
phorically, but literally true ; for all those crea- ; 
tures we behold are but the herbs of the field, \ 
digested into flesh in them, or more remotely j 
carnified in ourselves. Nay, further, we are '. 
what we all abhor, anthropophagi and cannibals, j 
devourers not only of men, but of ourselves ; j 
and that not in an allegory, but a positive truth : ; 
for all this mass of flesh which we behold came j 



RELIGIO MEDICL 75 

in at our mouths ; tliis frame we look upon 
hath been upon our trenchers ; m brief, we have 
devoured ourselves. I cannot believe the wis- 
dom of Pythagoras did ever positively, and in a 
hteral sense, affirm his metempsychosis, or im- 
possible transmigration of the souls of men into 
beasts : of all metamorphoses, or transmigra- 
tions, I believe only one, that is of Lot's wife ; ^^^' ^^^' 
for that of Nebuchadnezzar proceeded not so far : Dan. iv. ?2. 
in all others I conceive there is no further veri- 
ty than is contained in their implicit sense and 
morality. I believe that the whole frame of a 
beast doth perish, and is left in the same state 
after death as before it was materialled unto 
life : that the souls of men know neither con- 
trary nor corruption ; that they subsist beyond 
the body, and outlive death by the privilege of 
their proper natures, and without a miracle ; 
that the souls of the faithful, as they leave 
earth, take possession of heaven; that those 
apparitions and ghosts of departed persons are 
not the wandering souls of men, but the un- 
quiet walks of devils, prompting and suggesting 
us unto mischief, blood, and villany ; mstilling, 
and stealing into our hearts that the blessed 
spirits are not at rest in their graves, but wan- 
der solicitous of the affairs of the world : but that 
those phantasms appear often, and do frequent 
cemeteries, charnel-houses, and churches, it is 



76 RELIGIO MEDICI. j 

because those are the dormitories of the dead, ' 
where the devil, Hke an insolent champion, \ 
beholds with pride the spoils and trophies of , 
his victory in Adam. i 
Death XXXVIII. Tliis IS that dismal conquest we ; 
2 Esdr. Tii. all deplorc, that makes us so often cry, Adam^ • 
^^' quid fedsti? I thank God I have not those \ 
strait ligaments, or narrow obligations to the i 
world, as to dote on life, or be convulsed and ; 
tremble at the name of death : not that I am : 
insensible of the dread and horror thereof; or ■ 
by raking into the bowels of the deceased, con- ; 
tinual sight of anatomies, skeletons, or cadav- . 
erous reliques, like vespilloes, or grave-makers, \ 
fl am become stupid, or have forgot the appre- ] 
hension of mortality ; but that marshalling all = 
the horrors, and contemplating the extremi- ' 
hath no ties thereof, I find not anything therein able to ] 
a Christian, dauut the couragc of a man, much less a well ] 
resolved Christian ; and therefore am not angry j 
at the error of our first parents, or unwilling I 
to bear a part of this common fate, and like the ! 
best of them to die, that is, to cease to breathe, ■ 
to take a farewell of the elements, to be a kind^; 
of nothing for a moment, to be within one inVj 
1 Cor. XV. stant of a spirit. ^When I take a full view and ■ 
circle of myself without this reasonable mod- 
erator, and equal piece of justice. Death, I do j 
conceive myself the miserablest person extant : i 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 77 

were there not another hfe that I hope for, all 
the vanities of this world should not intreat a 
a moment's breath from me: could the devil 
work my belief to imagine I could never die, I 
would not outlive that very thought. I have 
so abject a conceit of this common way of exist- 
ence, this retaining to the sun and elements, I 
cannot think this to be a man, or to live accord- 
ing to the dignity of humanity. In expectation 
of a better, I can with patience embrace this 
life, yet in my best meditations do often defy 
death : I honour any man that contemns it, nor 
can I highly love any that is afraid of it : this 
makes me naturally love a soldier, and honour 
those tattered and contemptible regiments that 
will die at the command of a sero-eant. For a 
Pagan there may be some motives to be in love 
with life ; but for a Christian to be amazed at 
death, I see not how he can escape this dilem- 
ma, that he is too sensible of this life, or hope- 
less of the life to come. 

XXXIX. Some divines count Adam thirty Man has 
years old at his creation, because they suppose ^^J^l^^^ 
him created in the perfect age and stature of states of 
man. And surely we are all out of the compu- 
tation of our age, and every man is some months 
elder than he bethinks him ; for we live, move, 
have a being, and are subject to the actions of 
the elements, and the malice of diseases, in that 



78 RELIGIO MEDICI. | 

other world, the truest microcosm, the womb 
of our mother; for besides that general and 
common existence we are conceived to hold in 
our chaos, and whilst we sleep within the bosom 
of our causes, we enjoy a being and life in three ' 
distinct worlds, wherein we receive most mani- ; 
fest graduations. In that obscure world, and 
womb of our mother, our time is short, com- 3 
puted by the moon, yet longer than the days of :■ 
many creatures that behold the sun ; ourselves ' 
being not yet without life, sense, and reason ; 
thouo;h for the manifestation of its actions, it , 
awaits the opportunity of objects, and seems to j 
live there but in its root and soul of vegetation. : 
Entering afterwards upon the scene of the world, ^ 
we rise up and become another creature, per- : 
forming the reasonable actions of man, and ob- \ 
scurely manifesting that part of divinity in us ; \ 
but not in complement and perfection, till we \ 
have once more cast our secondine, that is, this 
slough of flesh, and are delivered into the last ; 
2 Cor. xii. world, that is, that ineffable place of Paul, that | 
proper uhi of spirits. The smattering I have \ 
of the philosopher's stone (which is something , 
more than the perfect exaltation of gold) hath ] 
taught me a great deal of divinity, and instruct- | 
ed my belief, how that immortal spirit and ' 
incorruptible substance of my soul may lie ob- • 

scure, and sleep a while within this house of j 

\ 
\ 
■3 
I 

] 



RELIGIO MEDICI, 79 

flesh.* Those strange and mystical transmigra- 
tions that I have observed in silkworms, turned 
my philosophy into divinity. There is in these 
works of nature, wdiich seem to puzzle reason, 
something divine, and hath more in it than the 
eye of a common spectator doth discover. 

XL. I am natm-ally bashful; nor hath con- Death to be 
versation, age, or travel been able to eflPront rather than 
or enharden me ; yet I have one part of mod- ^'^^'^^'i- 
esty which I have seldom discovered in anoth- 
er, that is, (to speak truly,) I am not so 
much afraid of death, as ashamed thereof: 'tis 
the very disgrace and ignominy of our natures, 
that in a moment can so disfigure us, that our 
nearest friends, wife, and children, stand afraid 
and start at us. The birds and beasts of the 
field, that before in a natural fear obeyed us, 
forgetting all allegiance, begin to prey upon us. 
This very conceit hath in a tempest disposed 
and left me willing to be swallowed up in the 
abyss of waters, wherein I had perished unseen, 
unpitied, without wondering eyes, tears of pity, 
lectures of mortality, and none had said. Quan- 
tum mutatus ah illo ! Not that I am ashamed 
of the anatomy of my parts, or can accuse nature 
for playing the bungler in any part of me, or 
my own vicious life for contracting any shame- 

* Compare Wordsworth's Ode, " Intimations of Immortality," 
especially stanza v. 



desired. 



80 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

ful disease upon me, whereby I might not call' 

myself as wholesome a morsel for the worms as' 

any. 

posthu- XLI. Some, upon the courage of a fruitful 

mous fame . , . . , i • i i 

not to be issue, wlicrem, as m the truest chronicle, they 
seem to outlive themselves, can with greater 
patience away with death. This conceit and 
counterfeit subsisting in our progenies seems 
to me a mere fallacy, unworthy the desires of a 
man that can but conceive a thought of the 
next world ; who, in a nobler ambition, should 
desire to live in his substance in heaven, rather^ 
than his name and shadow in tho earth. /And 
therefore at my death I mean to take a ^otal 
adieu of the world, not caring for a monument, 
history, or epitaph, not so much as the bare 
memory of my name to be found anywhere, but 
m the universal register of God. I am not yet 
so cynical as to approve the testament of Dio- 
genes ; * nor do altogether follow that rodomon- 
tado of Lucan: 

Cczlo iegiiur, qui non liabet urnam. 

Phars. vii. 819. 

'He that unburied lies wants not liis herse, 
For unto him a tomb 's the universe. 

but commend, in my calmer judgment, those 
ingenuous intentions that desire to sleep by the 

* Who willed his friend not to bury him, but hang him up 
with a staff in his hand to fright away the crows. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 81 \ 

urns of tlielr fathers, and strive to go the neat- i 
est Avay unto corruption. I do not envy the j 
temper of crows and daws,* nor the numerous \ 
and weary days of our fathers before the flood. I 
If there be any truth in astrology, I may out- 
live a jubilee ; as yet I have not seen one revo- ; 
lution of Saturn, nor hath my pulse beat thirty ^ 
years ; and yet, excepting one, f have seen the ; 
ashes of and left under ground all the Kings | 
of Europe ; have been contemporary to three 
Emperors, four Grand Signiors, and as many I 
Popes. J Methinks I have outlived myself, and 
begin to be weary of the sun : I have shaken 
hands with delight in my warm blood and canic- ; 
ular days : I perceive I do anticipate the vices j 
of acre : the world to me is but a dream or mock ■> 
show, and we all therein but pantaloons and i 
antics, to my severer contemplations. ■ 
XLII. It is not, I confess, an unlawful prayer Length of \ 
to desire to surpass the days of our Saviour, or ^e^^rred'^ I 
wish to outlive that age wherein he thouo;ht for, I 

* As Theophrastus did, who, dying, accused nature for giving ■ 

them, to whom it could be of no tise, so long a life, while she i 

granted so short a one to man. Cf. Cic. Tusc. Disp. iii, 69. An ! 
extreme longevity was ascribed to these birds. 

t Excepting one ; Christiern IV., King of Denmark, who died | 

1647. I 

X These were Kodolph II., Matthias, and Ferdinand II., Em- 1 

perors of Germany ; Achmet I., Mustapha I., Othman II., and i 

Amurath IV., Grand Signiors ; Leo XL? Paul V., Gregory XV., I 

and Urban VIIL, Popes. J 

6 



doth but 
increase 
our vices 



82 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

fittest to die ; yet if (as divinity affirms) there 
sliall be no gray hairs in heaven, but all shall 1 i 
rise in the perfect state of men, we do but out- ■ i 
live those perfections in this world, to be re- i 
called unto them by a greater miracle in the ; j 
next, and run on here but to be retrograde )|j 
hereafter. iWere there any hopes to outlive V! 
vice, or a point to be superannuated from sin, , 
it were Avorthy our knees to implore the days^ 
for age of Methusclah. (But age doth not rectify, butjk 
incurvate our natures, turning bad dispositions i 
into worser habits, and (like diseases) bringsi 
on incurable vices ; for every day as we grow| 
weaker in age, we grow stronger in sin : and I 
the number of our days doth but make our sins 3 
innumerable. The same vice committed at six-- 
teen, is not the same, though it agrees in alll 
other circumstances, as at forty, but swells audi 
doubles from the circumstance of our ages ; ; 
wherein, besides the constant and inexcusable? 
habit of transgressing, the maturity of our judge- - 
ment cuts off pretence unto excuse or pardon : : 
every sin the oftener it is committed, the more ij 
it acquireth in the quality of evil ; as it sue- - 
ceeds in time, so it proceeds in degrees of bad-- 
ness ; for as they proceed they ever multiply, 
and, like figures in arithmetic, the last stands 
for more than all that went before it. (Andd 
though I think that no man can live well once^ 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 83 

but he that could hve twice, yet for my own 
part I would not live over my hours past, or 
begin again the thread of my days : not upon 
Cicero's ground, because I have lived them 
well,* but for fear I should live them worse. 
I find my growing judgment daily instruct 
me how to be better, but my untamed affec- 
tions and confirmed vitiosity makes me daily do 
worse : I find in my confirmed age the same 
sins I discovered in my youth ; I committed 
many then, because I was a child ; and because 
I commit them still, I am yet an infant. There- 
fore I perceive a man may be twice a child, 
before the days of dotage ; and stand in need 
of ^son's bath f before threescore. 

XLIII. And truly there goes a great deal a special 
of providence to produce a man's life unto preJervr^ 
threescore : there is more required than an our lives. 
able temper for those years ; though the rad- 
ical humour contain in it sufiicient oil for sev- 
enty, yet I perceive in some it gives no light 
past thirty : men assign not all the causes of 
long life that write whole books thereof. They 

* I suppose he alludes to an expression in an Epistle of Cicero, 
written in his exile, to his wife and children, where he hath these 
words to his wife: Quod reUquum est, te sustenia, mea Terentia, ut 
potes ; honestissime viximus, jloruimus. Non vitium twsirum sed vir- 
tus nostra nos afflixit : peccatum est nullum, nisi quod non una ani- 
mam cum ornamentis amisimus. L. xiii. Ep. 55. Cf. Cic. De 
Senectute, xxiii. 

t Ovid, Met. vii. 176. 



84 RELIGIO MEDICI. ^ 

that found themselves on the radical balsam,! 
or vital sulphur of the parts, determine not; 
why Abel lived not so long as Adam. Therei 
is therefore a secret glome or bottom of our 
days : 't was His wisdom to determine them, 
but his perpetual and waking providence that 
fulfils and accomplisheth them, wherein the spir- 
its, ourselves, and all the creatures of God in 
a secret and disputed way do execute his wilL 
Let them not therefore complain of immaturity 
that die about thirty ; they fall but like the 
whole world, whose solid and well-composed I 
substance must not expect the duration and! 
period of its constitution : when all things arej 
completed in it, its age is accomplished ; andf 
the last and general fever may as naturally v 
destroy it before six thousand, as me before 
forty. There is therefore some other handl 
that twines the thread of life than that of 
nature : we are not only ignorant in antipathie^ 
and occult qualities ; our ends are as obscure; 
as our beginnings ; the line of our days is^ 
drawn by night, and the various effects therein i 
by a pencil that is invisible, wherein, though i 
we confess our ignorance, I am sure we do not I 
err if we say it is the hand of God. 
Tho' death XLIV. I am much taken with two verses^ 

IS to be de- 
sired, yet of Lucan, since I have been able not only, as« 

unlawful, w^ ^^ ^^ school, to coustrue, but understand^; 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 85 

Victurosque Dei celant, ut vivere durent, 
Felix esse mori. Pharsalia, iv. 519. 

( We 're all deluded, vainly searching ways 
To make us happy by the length of days ; 
For cunningly to make 's protract this breath, 
The gods conceal the happiness of death. 

There be many excellent strains in that poet, 
wherewith his Stoical genius hath liberally sup- 
plied him ; and truly there are singular pieces 
in the philosophy of Zeno, and doctrine of the 
Stoics, which I perceive delivered in a pulpit 
pass for current divinity: yet herein are they 
in extremes, that can allow a man to be his 
own assassin, and so highly extol the end and 
suicide of Cato ; this is indeed not to fear death, 
but yet to be afraid of life. It is a brave act 
of valour to contemn death ; but where life is 
more terrible than death, it is then the truest 
valour to dare to live : and herein religion hath 
taught us a noble example ; for all the valiant 
acts of Curtius, Scaevola, or Codrus do not 
parallel or match that one of Job ; and sure 
there is no torture to the rack of a disease, nor 
any poniards in death itself, like those in the 
way or prologue unto it. Emori nolo^ sed me 
esse mortuum nihil csstumo* I would not die, 
but care not to be dead. Were I of Caesar's 
religion, I should be of his desires, and wish 

* Cic. Tusc. Disp. i. 8. 



86 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

rather to go off at one blow, than to be sawed 
in pieces by the grating torture of a disease. 
Men that look no farther than their outsides, 
think health an appurtenance unto life, and 
quarrel with their constitutions for being sick ; 
but I that have examined the parts of man, and 
know upon what tender filaments that fabric 
hangs, do wonder that we are not always so ; 
and considerino; the thousand doors that lead to 
death, do thank my God that we can die but 
once.* 'Tis not only the mischief of diseases, 
and the villany of poisons, that make an end 
of us : we vainly accuse the fury of guns, and 
the new inventions of death ; it is in the power 
of every hand to destroy us, and we are behold- 
ing unto every one we meet, he doth not kill" 
us. There is therefore but one comfort left, 
that though it be in the power of the weakest 
arm to take away life, it is not in the strongest 
to deprive us of death ; God would not exempt 
himself from that ; the misery of immortality 
in the flesh He undertook not, that was, in it, 
immortal. (Certainly there is no happiness with- 
in this circle of flesh, nor is it in the optics 
of these eyes to behold fehcity. The first day 

* " Strange that a harp of thousand strings 
Should keep in tune so long! " 
Fs. cxxxix. 14. "I Avill praise thee; for I am fearfully and 
wonderfully made." 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 87 

of our jubilee is death ; the devil hath therefore 
failed of his desires : we are happier with death 
than we should have been without it : there is 
no misery but in himself, where there is no end 
of misery ; and so indeed, in his own sense, the 
Stoic is in the right. He forgets that he can 
die who complains of misery ; we are in the 
power of no calamity while death is in our 
own. 

XLV. Now besides this literal and positive Death the 
kind of death, there are others whereof divines ^^^f , 1° 

" which we 

make mention, and those I think not merely pass to im- 
metaphorical, as mortification, dying unto sin 
and the world; therefore, I say, every man 
hath a double horoscope, one of his humanity, 
his birth ; another of his Christianity, his bap- 
tism ; and from this do I compute or calculate 
my nativity, not reckoning those horce combusted 
and odd days, or esteeming myself anything, 
before I was my Saviour's, and inrolled in the 
register of Christ : whosoever enjoys not this 
life, I count him but an apparition, though he 
wear about him the sensible affections of flesh. 
In these moral acceptions, the way to be im- 
mortal is to die daily ; nor can I think I have 
the true theory of death, when I contemplate 
a skull, or behold a skeleton, with those vulgar 
imaginations it casts upon us : I have therefore 
enlarged that common memento mori into a 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 






more Christian memorandum, memento quatuor 
novissima, those four inevitable points of us all, 
Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell. Nei- 
ther did the contemplations of the heathens rest 
in their graves, without a further thought of 
Rhadamanth or some judicial proceeding after 
death, though in another way, and upon sug- 
gestion of their natural reasons. I cannot but 
marvel from what sibyl or oracle they stole the } 
prophecy of the world's destruction by fire, or | 

whence Lucan learned to say, , 

] 

Communis mundo superest rogus, ossibus astra f 

Mixturus Pharsalia, vii. 814. ^ 

There yet remains to th' world one common fire, j 

Wherein our bones with stars shall make one pyre. ' 

I 

I believe the world grows near its end, yet is ( 
neither old nor decayed, nor will ever perish | 
upon the ruins of its own principles.* As the 
work of creation was above nature, so its ad- 
versary, annihilation ; without which the world : 
hath not its end, but its mutation. Now what 

* The Author of nature has not given laws to the universe, 
which, like the institutions of men, carry in themselves the ele- 
ments of their own destruction. He has not permitted in his 
works any symptom of infancy or old age, or any sign by which 
we may estimate either their future or their past duration. He 
may put an end, as he no doubt gave a beginning, to the present 
system at some determinate period of time; but we may rest 
assured that this great catastrophe will not be brought about by 
the laws now existing, and that it is not indicated by anything 
which we perceive. — Playfair's Works, vol. iv. p. 55. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 89 

force should be able to consume it thus far, 
without the breath of God, which is the truest 
consuming flame, my philosophy cannot inform 
me. Some believe there went not a minute to 
the world's creation, nor shall there go to its 
destruction ; those six days so punctually de- Gen. i. 
scribed make not to them one moment, but 
rather seem to manifest the method and idea 
of that great work in the intellect of God, than 
the manner hoAV he proceeded in its operation. 
I cannot dream that there should be at the last 
day any such judicial proceeding, or calling to 
the bar, as mdeed the Scripture seems to imply, 
and the literal commentators do conceive : for 
unspeakable mysteries in the Scriptures are of- 
ten delivered in a vulgar and illustrative way ; 
and being written unto man, are delivered, not 
as they truly are, but as they may be under- 
stood; wherem, notwithstanding, the different 
interpretations according to different capacities 
may stand firm with our devotion, nor be any 
way prejudicial to each single edification. 

XLVI. Now to determine the day and year 
of this inevitable time is not only convincible 
and statute-madness, but also manifest impiety. 
How shall we interpret Ehas's six thousand 
years, or imagine the secret communicated to a 
rabbi, which God hath denied unto his ano;els ? ^*-. ^^^"• 

' ^ XXIV. 3o. 

It had been an excellent quaare to have posed 



90 RELIGIO MEDICI, 

tlie devil of Delplios, and must needs have 
forced liim to some strange amphibology: it 
hath not only mocked the predictions of smidry 
astrologers in ages past, but the prophecies of 
many melancholy heads in these present ; who, 
neither understanding reasonably things past or 
present, pretend a knowledge of things to come : 
heads ordained only to manifest the incredible 
Ixif 11- effects of melancholy, and to fulfil old prophecies 
24. rather than be authors of new. In those days 

St. Matt, there shall come tears and rumours of wars, to me 
st^Mark seeiiis 110 propliccy, but a constant truth in all 
^"- '*• times verified since it was pronounced. There 
St. Luke gJidU he signs in the moon and stars ; how comes 
he then like a thief in the night, when he gives 
an item of his coming? That common sign 
drawn from the revelation of antichrist is as 
obscure as any: in our common compute he 
hath been come these many years : for my own 
part, to speak freely, I am half of opinion that 
antichrist is the philosopher's stone in divinity, 
for the discovery and invention whereof, though 
there be prescribed rules and probable induc- 
tions, yet hath hardly any man attained the 
perfect discovery thereof. (That general opin- 
ion that the world grows near its end, hath 
possessed all ages past as nearly as ours : I am 
afraid that the souls that now depart, cannot 
escape that lingering expostulation of the samts 



XXI 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 91 

under the altar, Quousque Domine? How long, Rev. vi. 9, 
O Lord ; and groan in the expectation of the ^^' 
great jubilee. 

XLY II. This is the day that must make The day of 
good that great attribute of God, his justice ; "^" °°^^" ' 
that must reconcile those unanswerable doubts 
that torment the wisest understandings ; and 
reduce those seeming inequalities and respec- 
tive distributions in this world to an equality 
and recompensive justice in the next. This is 
that one day, that shall include and comprehend 
all that went before it ; wherein, as in the last 
scene, all the actors must enter to complete and 
make up the catastrophe of tliis great piece. 
(This is the day whose memory hath only power 
to make us honest in the dark, and to be virtu- 
ous without a witness. Ipsa sues pretium virtus 
sihi — that virtue is her own reward, is but a 
cold principle, and not able to maintain our 
variable resolutions in a constant and settled 
way of goodness. I have practised that honest 
artifice of Seneca, and in my retired and solitary 
imaginations, to detain me from the foulness of 
vice, have fancied to myself the presence of 
my dear and worthiest friends, before whom I 
should lose my head, rather than be vicious : yet 
herein I found that there was nau2:ht but moral 
honesty, and this was not to be virtuous for His 
sake who must reward us at the last. I have 



92 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

tried if I could reach that great resolution of 
Ms, to be honest without a thought of heaven 
or hell : and indeed I found upon a natural 
inclination, and inbred loyalty unto virtue, that 
I could serve her without a livery ; yet not in 
that resolved and venerable way, but that the 
frailty of my nature, upon an easy temptation, 
might be induced to forget her. (The life there- 
fore and spirit of all our actions is the resurrec- 
tion, and a stable apprehension that our ashes 
shall enjoy the fruit of our pious endeavours : 
without this, all religion is a fallacy, and those 
impieties of Lucian, Euripides, and Julian are 
no blasphemies, but subtle verities, and atheists 
have been the only philosophers. 
The resur- XLVIII. How sliall the dead arise ? is no 
the*dead ^^^^stion of my faith ; to believe only possibili- 
1 Cor. XV. ties is not faith, but mere philosophy: many 
things are true in divinity, which are neither 
inducible by reason nor confirmable by sense ; 
and many things in philosophy confirmable by 
sense, yet not inducible by reason. Thus it is 
impossible by any solid or demonstrative reasons 
to persuade a man to believe the conversion of 
the needle to the north ; though this be possi- 
ble, and true, and easily credible, upon a single 
experiment unto the sense. I beheve that our 
estranged and divided ashes shall unite again ; 
that our separated dust, after so many pilgrim- 



I 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 93 i 

ages and transformations into the parts of min- \ 

erals, plants, animals, elements, shall at the j 

voice of God return into their primitive shapes, ] 

and join again to make up their primary and j 
predestinate forms. As at the creation there 

was a separation of that confused mass into its j 

species ; so at the destruction thereof there shall j 

be a separation into its distinct individuals. As j 

at the creation of the world, all the distinct j 

species that we behold lay involved in one mass, j 

till the fruitful voice of God separated this united ] 

multitude into its several species ; so at the last \ 

day, when these corrupted reliques shall be scat- \ 

tered in the wilderness of forms, and seem to \ 

have forgot their proper habits, God by a pow- I 

erful voice shall command them back into their , 

proper shapes, and call them out by their single .' 
individuals : then shall appear the fertility of 

Adam, and the magic of that sperm that hath ] 
dilated into so many millions.* I have often Types of i 
beheld as a miracle that artificial resurrection *^®j"®^"'^' ; 

rection. ; 

and revivification of Mercury, how, being mor- i 

tified into a thousand shapes, it assumes again i 

* What is made to be immortal, nature cannot, nor will the I 
voice of God, destroy. Those bodies that we behold to perish, 
were in their created natures immortal, and liable unto death 
only accidentally, and upon forfeit; and therefore they owe not 

that natural homage unto death as other bodies do, but may be ] 

restored to immortality with a lesser miracle, and by a bare and { 

easy revocation of course, return immortal. Edits. 1642. I 



94 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

its own, and returns into its numerical self. Let 
us speak naturally and like philosophers : the 
forms of alterable bodies in these sensible cor- 
ruptions perish not ; nor, as we imagine, whol- 
ly quit their mansions, but retire and contract 
themselves into their secret and unaccessible 
parts, where they may best protect themselves 
from the action of their antagonist. A plant 
or vegetable consumed to ashes, to a contem- 
plative and school-philosopher seems utterly de- 
stroyed, and the form to have taken his leave 
forever ; but to a sensible artist the forms are 
not perished, but withdrawn into their incom- 
bustible part, where they lie secure from the 
action of that devouring element. This is made 
good by experience, which can from the ashes 
of a plant revive the plant, and from its cinders 
recall it into its stalk and leaves again.* What 

* Sir Kenelm Digby thus describes the beautiful experiment, 
called, from the Greek, Palingenesis : — 

" Quercetanus, the famous physician of King Henry the Fourth, 
tells us a wonderful story of a Polonian doctor, that showed him 
a dozen glasses hermetically sealed, in each of which was a dif- 
ferent plant : for example, a rose in one, a tulip in another, a 
clove gilly-flower in a third, and so of the rest. When he offered 
these glasses to your first view, you saw nothing in them but a 
heap of ashes in the bottom. As soon as he held some gentle 
heat under any of them, presently there arose out of the ashes 
the idea of a flower and the stalk belonging to those ashes, and it 
would shoot up and spread abroad to the due height and just 
dimensions of such a flower, and had perfect colour, shape, mag- 
nitude, and all other accidents, as if it really were that very 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 95 

the art of man can do in these inferior pieces, 
what blasphemy is it to affirm the finger of 
God cannot do in these more perfect and sen- 
sible structures ! This is that mystical philoso- 
phy, from whence no true scholar becomes an 
atheist, but from the visible effects of nature 
grows up a real divine, and beholds not in a 
dream, as Ezekiel, but in an ocular and visible 
object, the types of his resurrection. 

XLIX. Now the necessary mansions of our Heaven, or 
restored selves are those two contrary and in- ^e^ defined. 
compatible places we call heaven and hell: to 
define them, or strictly to determine what and 
where these are, surpasseth my divinity. That 
elegant apostle which seemed to have a glimpse 
of heaven, hath left but a negative description 
thereof : which neither eye hath seen, nor ear hath i cor. ii 9. 
heard, nor can enter into the heart of man: he ^' ^^' 
was translated out of himself to behold it; but 
being returned into himself could not express it. 
St. John's description by emeralds, chrysolites. Rev. xxi. 
and precious stones, is too weak to express the 

flower. But whenever you drew the heat from it, would this 
flower sink down by Httle and little, till at length it would bury 
itself in its bed of ashes. And thus it would do as often as you 
exposed it to moderate heat, or withdrew it fi"om it. I confess it 
would be no small delight to me to see this experiment, with all 
the circumstances that Quercelan sets down. Athnnasius Kir- 
cherus, at Rome, assured me that he had done it; and gave me 
the process of it. But no industry of mine could effect it." — 
Treatise on the Vegetation of Plants. 



96 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

material heaven we behold. [ Briefly, therefore, 
where the soul hath the full measure and com- 
plement of happiness ; where the boundless ap- 
petite of that spirit remains completely satisfied, 
that it can neither desire addition nor alteration ; 
that, I think, is truly Heaven : and this can 
only be in the enjoyment of that essence, whose 
infinite goodness is able to terminate the desires 
of itself, and the unsatiable wishes of ours : 
wherever God will thus manifest himself, there 
is heaven, though within the circle of this sen- 
sible world. Thus the soul of man may be 
in heaven anywhere, even within the limits of 
his own proper body ; and when it ceaseth to 
live in the body, it may remain in its own soul, 
that is, its Creator. And thus we may say 
2Cor. xii. that St. Paul, whether in the body or out of 
the body, was yet in heaven. To place it in 
the empyreal, or beyond the tenth sphere, is 
to forget the world's destruction ; for when this 
sensible world shall be destroyed, all shall then 
be here as it is now there, an empyreal heaven, 
a quasi vacuity ; when to ask where heaven is, 
is to demand where the presence of God is, or 
where we have the glory of that happy vision. 
Moses, that was bred up in all the learning of 
the jEgyptians, committed a gross absurdity in 
Ex. xxxiii. philosophy, when with these eyes of flesh he 
desired to see God, and petitioned his Maker, 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 97 j 

that is, Truth itself, to a contradiction. Those j 

that imao-ine heaven and hell neio-hbours, and ^ 

conceive a vicinity between those two extremes, 
upon consequence of the parable, where Dives st. Luke | 
discoursed with Lazarus in Abraham's bosom, ^^^' ~ ' \ 
do too grossly conceive of those glorified crea- \ 

tures, whose eyes shall easily outsee the sun, 
and behold without a perspective the extremest 
distances : for if there shall be in our glorified 1 

eyes the faculty of sight and reception of ob- i 

jects, I could think the visible species there \ 

to be in as unlimitable a way, as now the in- j 

tellectual. I grant that two bodies placed be- \ 

yond the tenth sphere, or in a vacuity, accord- ' 

ing to Aristotle's philosophy, could not behold ; 

each other, because there wants a body or j 

medium to hand and transport the visible rays j 

of the object mito the sense ; but when there i 

shall be a general defect of either medium to i 

convey, or light to prepare and dispose that ; 

medium, and yet a perfect vision, we must ' 

suspend the rules of our philosophy, and make i 

all good by a more absolute piece of optics. i 

L. I cannot tell how to say that fire is the of Fire as j 
essence of hell : I know not what to make of ^^q^^^. '° I 
purgatory, or conceive a flame that can either *ion. j 

prey upon, or purify the substance of a soul : j 

those flames of sulphur mentioned in the Scrip- ' 

tures, I take not to be understood of this present 



98 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

hell, but of that to come, where fire shall make 
up the complement of our tortures, and have a 
body or subject wherein to manifest its tyranny. 
Some who have had the honour to be textuary 
in divinity, are of opinion it shall be the same 
specifical fire with ours. This is hard to con- 
ceive ; yet can I make good how even that may 
prey upon our bodies, and yet not consume us : 
for in this material world there are bodies that 
persist invincible in the powerfullest flames ; 
and though by the action of fire they fall into 
ignition and liquation, yet will they never suffer 
a destruction. I would gladly know how Moses 
Exod. ^,Y\\\\ an actual fire calcined or burnt the golden 
calf unto powder : for that mystical metal of 
gold, whose solary and celestial nature I admire, 
exposed unto the violence of fire, grows only 
hot and liquefies, but consumeth * not ; so when 
the consumable and volatile pieces of our bodies 
shall be refined into a more impregnable and 
fixed temper, like gold, though they suffer from 
the actions of flames, they shall never perish, 
but lie immortal in the arms of fire. And 
surely, if this frame must suffer only by the 
action of this element, there will many bodies 
escape ; and not only heaven but earth will 
not be at an end, but rather a beginning. For 

* Moses is not said to have consumed it, but to have ground it 
to powder. 



xxxii. 20. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 99 

at present it is not earth, but a composition of 
fire, water, earth, and air ; but at that time, 
spoiled of these ingredients, it shall appear in a 
substance more like itself, its ashes. ( Philoso- 
phers that opinioned the world's destruction by- 
fire, did never dream of annihilation, which is 
beyond the power of sublunary causes ; for the 
last and proper action of that element is but 
vitrification, or a reduction of a body into 
glass; and therefore some of our chymicks fa- 
cetiously affirm, that at the last fire all shall be 
crystallized and reverberated into glass, which 
is the utmost action of that element. Nor need 
we fear this term, annihilation, or wonder that 
God will destroy the works of his creation ; 
for man subsisting, who is, and will then truly 
appear, a microcosm, the world cannot be said 
to be destroyed. For the eyes of God, and 
perhaps also of our glorified selves, shall as 
really behold and contemplate the world in its 
epitome or contracted essence, as now it doth 
at large and in its dilated substance. In the 
seed of a plant to the eyes of God, and to the 
understanding of man, there exists, though in 
an invisible way, the perfect leaves, flowers, 
and fruit thereof; for things that are in posse 
to the sense, are actually existent to the under- 
standing. Thus God beholds all things, who 
contemplates as fully his works in their epitome 



100 RELIGIO MEDICI, 

as in their foil volume ; and beheld as amply 
the whole world in that little compendium of 
the sixth day, as in the scattered and dilated 
pieces of those five before. 
The heart LI. Men commouly set forth the torments 
of mania ^^ j^^jj i ^ ^^^^ ^|^g extremity of corporal 

hia own j ' ./ x 

torment, afflictious, and describe hell in the same meth- 
od that Mahomet doth heaven. This indeed 
makes a noise, and drums in popular ears : but 
if this be the terrible piece thereof, it is not 
worthy to stand in diameter with heaven, whose 
happiness consists in that part that is best able 
to comprehend it, that immortal essence, that 
translated divinity and colony of God, the soul. 
Surely though we place hell under earth, the 
devil's walk and purlieu is about it : men speak 
too popularly who place it in those flaming 
mountains, which to grosser apprehensions rep- 
resent hell. The heart of man is the place the 
devil dwells in : I feel sometimes a hell within 
myself: * Lucifer keeps his court in my breast. 
Legion is revived in me. There are as many 
hells, as Anaxarchus conceited worlds: there 

* So Milton, Paradise Lost, i. 254, — 

" The mind is its own place, and in itself 
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven," — 

and iv. 18. So also, Tasso, c. xii. st. 77. 

" Swift from myself I run, myself I fear. 
Yet still my hell within myself I bear." 



RELIGIO MEDICI, 101 

was more than one liell in Magdalene, when 
there were seven devils, for every devil is an 
hell unto himself; he holds enough of torture 
m his own uhi^ and needs not the misery of 
circumference to aiSict him; and thus a dis- 
tracted conscience here is a shadow or intro- 
duction unto hell hereafter. Who can but pity 
the merciful intention of those hands that do 
destroy themselves ? the devil, were it in his 
power, would do the like ; which being impos- 
sible, his miseries are endless, and he suffers 
most in that attribute wherein he is impassible, 
his immortality. 

LII. I thank God, and with joy I mention contem- 
it, I was never afraid of hell, nor never grew ^^*'^°° ^^ 
pale at the description of that place ; I have so 
fixed my contemplations on heaven, that I have 
almost forgot the idea of hell, and am afraid Heb. xii. 2. 
rather to lose the joys of the one, than endure 
the misery of the other : to be deprived of them 2 Esdr, ix. 
is a perfect hell, and needs, methmks, no addi- 
tion to complete our afflictions. That terrible 
term hath never detained me from sin, nor do 
I owe any good action to the name thereof. I 
fear God, yet am not afraid of him : his mercies 
make me ashamed of my sins, before his judg- 
ments afraid thereof: these are the forced and 
secondary method of his wisdom, which he 
useth but as the last remedy, and upon provo- 



102 RELIGIO MEDICI. l 

cation: a course rather to deter the wicked, \ 

than incite the virtuous to his worship. I can j 

hardly think there was ever any scared into \ 

heaven ; they go the fairest way to heaven that \ 

would serve God without a hell ; other merce- \ 

naries, that crouch unto him in fear of hell, 1 

though they term themselves the servants, are i 

indeed hut the slaves of the Almighty,* '\ 

Thejuds- LIII. And to he true, and speak my soul, j 

mentsof . 1 

God to be when I survey the occurrences of my life, and ' 

'^roofro'f^^ call into account the finger of God, I can per- j 

afiection. ccivc uotliing hut au ahyss and mass of mercies, . 

either in general to mankind, or in particular to ; 

myself: and whether out of the prejudice of my ■ 

aifection, or an inverting and partial conceit of ': 

his mercies, I know not ; but those which others ; 

term crosses, afflictions, judgments, misfortunes, * 

to me who inquire farther into them than their , 

visible effects, they both appear, and in event ,■ 

have ever proved, the secret and dissembled ■ 

favours of his affection. It is a singular piece \ 

of wisdom to apprehend truly, and without pas- ; 

sion, the works of God, and so well to distin- i 
guish his justice from his mercy, as not to 

* Excellent throughout ! The fear of hell may indeed in some , 

desperate cases, like the moxa, give the first rouse from a moral '\ 

lethargy, or like the green venom of copper, by evaci;ating poison , 

or a dead load from the inner man, prepare it for nobler ministra- . 

tions and medicines from the realm of light and life, that nourish I 

while they stimulate. Coleridge. ' 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 103 

miscall those noble attributes : yet it is likewise 
an honest piece of logic, so to dispute and argue 
the proceedings of God, as to distinguish even 
his judgments into mercies. For God is mer- 
ciful unto all, because better to the worst than 
the best deserve ; and to say he punisheth none 
in this world, though it be a paradox, is no 
absurdity. To one that hath committed mur- 
der, if the judge should only ordain a fine, it 
were a madness to call this a punishment, and 
to repine at the sentence, rather than admu-e 
the clemency of the judge : thus our offences 
being mortal, and deserving not only death, but 
damnation, if the goodness of God be content 
to traverse and pass them over with a loss, mis- 
fortune, or disease, what phrensy were it to 
term this a punishment, rather than an extrem- 
ity of mercy, and to groan under the rod of his 
judgments, rather than admire the sceptre of 
his mercies ! , Therefore to adore, honour, and 
admire him is a debt of gratitude due from the 
obligation of our nature, states, and conditions ; 
and with these thoughts. He that knows them 
best will not deny that I adore him. That I 
obtain heaven, and the bliss thereof, is acci- 
dental, and not the intended work of my devo- 
tion ; it being a felicity I can neither think to 
deserve, nor scarce in modesty to expect. For 
these two ends of us all, either as rewards or 



alone. 



104 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

punishments, are mercifully ordained and dis- 
proportionably disposed unto our actions ; the 
one being so far beyond our deserts, the other 
so infinitely below our demerits. 
Salvation LIV. There is no salvation to those that 

through , T . ^-^-y . -, . 

Christ believe not m Christ, that is, say some, since 
his nativity, and, as divinity affirmeth, before 
also ; which makes me much apprehend the end 
of those honest worthies and philosophers wdiich 
died before his incarnation. \It is hard to place 
those souls in hell whose worthy lives do teach 
us virtue on earth ; methinks, amongst those 
many subdivisions of hell, there might have 
been one limbo left for these. What a strange 
vision will it be to see their poetical fictions 
converted into verities, and their imagined and 
fancied furies into real devils ! How strange to 
them will sound the history of Adam, when 
they shall suffer for him they never heard of! 
when they that derive their genealogy from the 
gods, shall know they are the unhappy issue of 
sinful man ! It is an insolent part of reason, to 
controvert the works of God, or question the 
justice of his proceedings. Could humility teach 
others, as it hath instructed me, to contemplate 
the infinite and incomprehensible distance be- 
twixt the Creator and the creature ; or did we 
seriously perpend that one simile of St. Paul, 
Sliall the vessel say to the potter, Wliy hast thou 



Rom. ix. 
20. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 105 

made me thus f it would prevent these arrogant 
disputes of reason; nor would we argue the 
definitive sentence of God, either to heaven or 
hell. Men that live according to the right rule 
and law of reason, live but in their own kind, 
as beasts do in theirs ; who justly obey the pre- 
script of their natures, and therefore cannot 
reasonably demand a reward of their actions, as 
only obeying the natural dictates of their reason. 
It will, therefore, and must at last appear, that 
all salvation is through Christ ; which verity, I 
fear, these great examples of virtue must con 
firm, and make it good, how the perfectest 
actions of earth have no title or claim unto 
heaven. 

LV. Nor truly do I think the lives of these, Oui* p^ac 

p ^ , , , tice incon- 

or 01 any otlier, were ever correspondent, or sistentwith 
in all points conformable unto their doctrines, our theory. 
It is evident that Aristotle transgressed the rule 
of his own ethics : the Stoics that condemn pas- 
sion, and command a man to laugh in Phalaris 
his bull, could not endure without a groan a 
fit of the stone or colic. The sceptics, that 
affirmed they knew nothing, even in that opin- 
ion confute themselves, and thought they knew 
more than all the world beside. Diogenes I 
hold to be the most vainglorious man of his 
time, and more ambitious in refusino; all hon- 
ours, than Alexander in rejecting none. Vice 



106 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

and the devil put a fallacy upon our reasons, 
and, provoking us too hastily to run from it, 
entangle and profound us deeper in it. The 
duke of Venice, that weds himself unto the 
sea by a ring of gold, I will not argue of prodi- 
gality, because it is a solemnity of good use 
and consequence in the state : but the philoso- 
pher that threw his money into the sea to avoid 
avarice, was a notorious prodigal.* There is 
no road or ready way to virtue : it is not an 
easy point of art to disentangle ourselves from 
this riddle, or web of sin. \To perfect vii'tue, 
as to religion, there is required a panoplia^ or 
complete armour ; that whilst we lie at close 
ward against one vice, we lie not open to the 
veny of another: and indeed wiser discretions 
that have the thread of reason to conduct them, 
offend without a pardon ; whereas, underheads 
may stumble without dishonour. There are so 
many circumstances to piece up one good ac- 
tion, that it is a lesson to be good, and we are 

* The Doge performs this ceremony every year, in token of 
the sovereignty of the state of Venice over the Adriatic, and to 
commemorate the celebrated declaration of Pope Alexander III. : 
" Que la mer vous soit soumise comme I'^pouse Test a son dpoux, 
puisque vous en avez acquis I'empire par la victoire." ApoUo- 
nius Thyaneus threw his gold into the sea, saying these words: 
Pessundo divitias, ne pessundarer ah ilUs. Polycrates, the tyrant 
of Samos, cast the best jewel he had into the sea, that thereby 
he might learn to compose himself against the vicissitudes of 
fortune. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 107 

forced to be virtuous by the book. Again, the 
practice of men holds not an equal pace ; yea, 
and often runs counter to their theory: we 
naturally know what is good, but naturally pur- 
sue what is evil : the rhetoric wherewith I per- 
suade another, cannot persuade myself: there 
is a depraved appetite in us, that will with 
patience hear the learned instructions of reason, 
but yet perform no farther than agrees to its 
own irregular humour. In brief, we all are 
monsters, that is, a composition of man and 
beast, wherein we must endeavour to be as the 
poets fancy that wise man Chiron, that is, to 
have the region of man above that of beast, 
and sense to sit but at the feet of reason. Last- 
ly, I do desire with God, that all, but yet af- i Tim. ii. 
firm with men, that few shall know salvation : gp^'t, $;} 9, 
that the bridge is narrow, the passage strait 
unto life : yet those who do confine the Church 
of God either to particular nations, churches, or 
families, have made it far narrower than our 
Saviour ever meant it. 

LVI. The vulgarity of those judgments that The 
wrap the Church of God in Strabo's cloak,* and God not° 

circum- 
* 'Tis Sir abonis tunica in the translation, but chlamydi -would scribed, 
do better, wliich is the proper expression of the woi'd that Strabo 
useth : it is not Europe, but the known part of the world, that 
Strabo resembleth to a cloak, and that is it the author here 
alludeth to ; but we have no reason to think that the resemblance 
of Strabo is very proper. 



108 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

restrain it unto Europe, seem to me as bad 
geographers as Alexander, who thought he had 
conquered all the world, when he had not sub- 
dued the half of any part thereof: for we can- 
not deny the Church of God both in Asia and 
Africa, if we do not forget the peregrinations 
of the apostles, the deaths of the martyrs, the 
sessions of many, and, even in our reformed 
judgment, lawful councils, held in those parts 
in the minority and nonage of ours : nor must 
a few differences, more remarkable in the eyes 
of man than perhaps in the judgment of God, 
excommunicate from heaven one another; much 
less those Christians who are in a manner all 
martyrs, maintaining their faith in the noble 
way of persecution, and serving God in the fire, 
whereas we honour him but in the sunshine. 
A sectarian '^ jg ^^^q -yyg r^\ \^q\^ tlicrc is a uumber of 

spirit hos- i i i 

tile to elect, and many to be saved ; yet take our 
chanty, opiuious together, and from the confusion there- 
of there will be no such thing as salvation, nor 
shall any one be saved. For first, the Church 
of Rome condemneth us, we likewise them; 
the sub-reformists and sectaries sentence the 
doctrine of our Church as damnable ; the ato- 
mist, or familist,* reprobates all these ; and all 
these, them again. Thus whilst the mercies 

* The otomists, or familists, were religionists who sprung up 
about the year 1575. See Hist, of the Puritans, i. 273. 



I 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 109 ; 

( 

of God do promise us heaven, our conceits and ^ 

opinions exclude us from that place. There j 

must be, therefore, more than one St. Peter : < 

particular churches and sects usurp the gates of \ 

heaven, and turn the key against each other, j 

and thus we go to heaven against each other's i 

wills, conceits, and opinions, and, with as much 1 
uncharity as ignorance, do err, I fear, in points 

not only of our own, but one another's salva- \ 
tion. 

LYII. I believe many are saved, who to "Judge 
man seem reprobated ; and many are reprobat- yg ^^ ^^^ 
ed, who, in the opinion and sentence of man. Judged." 
stand elected. There will appear at the last 

day, strange and unexpected examples, both of ; 

his justice and his mercy ; and therefore to de- ] 
fine either is folly in man, and insolency even 
in the devils ; those acute and subtile spirits, 

in all their sagacity, can hardly divine who ' 
shall be saved ; which if they could prognostic, 

their labour were at an end, nor need they | 

compass the earth seeking whom they may de- j 

vour. Those who, upon a rigid application of \ 

the law, sentence Solomon unto damnation, con- \ 

demn not only him, but themselves, and the ; 

whole world : for by the letter and written i 

word of God, we are without exception in the \ 

state of death ; but there is a prerogative of \ 

God and an arbitrary pleasure above the letter i 



110 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

of Ills own law, by which alone we can pre- 
tend unto salvation, and through which Solo- 
mon might be as easily saved as those who 
condemn him. 

LVIII. The number of those who pretend 
unto salvation, and those infinite swarms who 
think to pass through the eye of this needle, 
have much amazed me. That name and com- 

st. Luke pellation of little flock., doth not comfort, but 
deject my devotion ; especially when I reflect 
upon mine own unworthiness, wherein, accord- 
ing to my humble apprehensions, I am below 
them all. I believe there shall never be an 
anarchy in heaven ; but as there are hierarchies 
amongst the angels, so shall there be degrees 
of priority amongst the saints. Yet is it (I 
protest) beyond my ambition to aspire unto 
the first ranks ; my desires only are, and I 
shall be happy therein, to be but the last man, 
and bring up the rear in heaven. 

ourconfi- LIX. Again, I am confident, and fully per- 

dence can iii i ipi 

only be in suadcd, yet dare not take my oath of my sal- 
^°^^ vation. I am as it were sure, and do believe 

mercy. 

without all doubt, that there is such a city as 
Constantinople : yet for me to take my oath 
thereon were a kind of perjury, because I hold 
no infallible warrant from my own sense to 
confirm me in the certainty thereof. And tru- 
ly, though many pretend an absolute certainty 



RELIGIO MEDICI. HI 

of tlieir salvation, yet when an humble soul I 
shall contemplate her own unworthiness, she 
shall meet with many doubts, and suddenly j 
find how little we stand in need of the precept i 
of St. Paul, work out your salvation with fear pwi- ii- 12. 
and trembling. That which is the cause of 
my election, I hold to be the cause of my sal- 
vation, which was the mercy and heneplacit of | 
God, before I was, or the foundation of the \ 

world. " Before Abraham was, I am," is the ^*- •^*'^° I 

. T"i- as- 
saying of Christ ; yet is it true in some sense, I 

if I say it of myself ; for I was not only before i 

myself, but Adam, that is, in the idea of God, I 

and the decree of that synod held from all ' 

eternity: and in this sense, I say, the world ■. 

was before the creation, and at an end before | 

it had a beginning ; and thus was I dead be- 1 

fore I was alive : though my grave be England, ■ 

my dying place was paradise : and Eve mis- ,- 

earned of me, before she conceived of Cain. i 

LX. Insolent zeals, that do decry good works Faith. 
and rely only upon faith, take not away merit : 1 
for depending upon the efficacy of their faith, \ 
they enforce the condition of God, and in a \ 
more sophistical way do seem to challenge heav- 
en. It was decreed by God, that only those j 
that lapt in the water like dogs, should have Judges rii : 
the honour to destroy the Midianites ; yet could '' i 
none of those justly challenge, or imagine he ^ 



112 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

deserved that honour thereupon. I do not 
deny, but that true faith, and such as God 
requires, is not only a mark or token, but also 
a means of our salvation ; but where to find 
this, is as obscure to me as my last end. And 
St. Matt, jf Q^j, Saviour could object unto his own dis- 

xvii. 20. 

ciples and favourites, a faith, that, to the quan- 
tity of a grain of mustard-seed, is able to re- 
move mountains ; surely, that which we boast 
of is not anything, or at the most but a re- 
move from nothing. This is the tenor of my 
belief; wherein, though there be many things 
singular, and to the humour of my irregular 
self, yet if they square not with maturer judg- 
ments, I disclaim them, and do no further fa- 
vour them, than the learned and best judgments 
shall authorize them. 



mm^^^' 




t 



The Second Part. 




OW for that other virtue of charity, chanty. 
without which faith is a mere no- icor. xih 
tion, and of no existence, I have ^" 
ever endeavoured to nourish the 
merciful disposition and humane inchnation I 
borrowed from my parents, and regulate it 
to the written and prescribed laws of char- 
ity: and if I hold the true anatomy of my- 
self, I am delineated and naturally framed to 
such a piece of virtue ; for I am of a con- 
stitution so general, that it consorts and sym- 
pathizeth with all things : I have no antipathy, 
or rather idio-syncrasy, in diet, humour, air, 
anything. I wonder not at the French for 
their dishes of frogs, snails, and toadstools ; nor 
at the Jews for locusts and grasshoppers ; but 
being amongst them, make them my common 
viands, and I find they agree with my stomach 
as well as theirs. I could digest a salad gath- 



114 RELIGIO MEDICI. { 

\ 
ered in a churcliyard, as well as in a garden. ) 
I cannot start at the presence of a serpent, j 
scorpion, lizard, or salamander : at the sight i 
of a toad or viper, I find in me no desire to '] 
take up a stone to destroy them. I feel not i 
in myself those common antipathies that I can \ 
discover in others : those national repugnances ■ 
do not touch me, nor do I behold with preju- ■ 
dice the French, Italian, Spaniard, or Dutch : j 
but where I find their actions in balance with , 
my countrymen's, I honour, love, and embrace 
them in the same degree. I was born in the ; 
eicrhth climate, but seem for to be framed and 
constellated unto all : I am no plant that will ; 
not prosper out of a garden ; all places, all airs, ' 
make unto me one country ; I am in England, j 
everywhere, and under any meridian ; I have ■ 
been shipwrecked, yet am not enemy Avitli the j 
sea or winds ; I can study, play, or sleep in a j 
tempest. In brief, I am averse from nothing: 
my conscience would give me the lie if I should \ 
absolutely detest or hate any essence but the ) 
devil ; or so at least abhor anything, but that ^ 
we might come to composition. If there be 
any among those common objects of hatred I 
do contemn and laugh at, it is that great enemy 
of reason, virtue, and religion, the multitude^ 
that numerous piece of monstrosity, which, taken 
asunder, seem men, and the reasonable crea- 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 115 

tures of God ; but confused together, make but 
one great beast, and a monstrosity more pro- 
digious than Hydra : it is no breach of charity 
to call these fools ; it is the style all holy writers 
have afforded them, set down by Solomon in 
canonical Scripture, and a point of our faith 
to believe so. Neither in the name of multi- 
tude do I only include the base and minor sort 
of people ; * there is a rabble even amongst the 
gentry, a sort of plebeian heads, whose fancy 
moves with the same wheel as these ; men in 
the same level with mechanics, though their 
fortunes do somewhat gild their infirmities, and 
their purses compound for their follies. But 
as in casting account, three or four men to- 
gether come short in account of one man placed 
by himself below them ; so neither are a troop 
of these ignorant Doradoes'f of that true esteem 
and value, as many a forlorn person, whose 
condition doth place him below their feet. Let 
us speak like politicians : there is a nobility 
without heraldry, a natural dignity, whereby 
one man is ranked with another, another filed 
before him, according to the quality of his 



* " Do not imagine that I consider as vulgar those only of the 
poor and humble classes; but all who are if/norant, even be they 
lords or princes, they must be classed under the denomination 
vulgar. ^^ — Cervantes. 

t Dorado, Spanish. Gilt-head. 



116 RELIGIO MEDICI. i 

I 
desert, and pre-eminence of his good parts.* ' 

Though the corruption of these times and the : 

bias of present practice wheel another way, 

thus it was in the first and primitive common- \ 

wealths, and is yet in the integrity and cradle i 

of well-ordered polities, till corruption getteth i 

ground ; ruder desires labouring after that which j 

wiser considerations contemn, every one having \ 

a liberty to amass and heap up riches, and ! 

they a license or faculty to do or purchase i 

anything. ' 

Charity II. Tliis general and indifferent temper of 

^rhigfrom 1^""^^ dotli morc nearly dispose me to this noble j 

a proper yirtuc. It is a happiness to be born and framed ' 

unto virtue, and to grow up from the seeds of , 

nature, rather than the inoculation and forced • 

grass of education : yet if we are directed only \ 

by our particular natures, and regulate our in- | 

clinations by no higher rule than that of our - 

reasons, we are but moralists ; divinity will still ! 

call us heathens. ; Therefore this great work j 

of charity must have other motives, ends, and '• 

impulsions. I give no alms to satisfy the hun- j 

* " Nobilitas sola est atque unica, virtus." \ 

Juvenal. 
" Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 

'T is only noble to be good; | 

Kind hearts are more than coronets, \ 

And simple faith than Norman blood." 

Tennyson. ! 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 117 

ger of my brother, but to fulfil and accomplish 
the will and command of my God : I draw not 
my purse for his sake that demands it, but 
His that enjoined it : I relieve no man upon 
the rhetoric of his miseries, nor to content mine 
own commiserating disposition ; for this is still 
but moral charity, and an act that oweth more 
to passion than reason. He that relieves an- 
other upon the bare suggestion and bowels of 
pity, doth not this so much for his sake as for 
his own ; for by compassion we make others' 
misery our own, and so, by relieving them, we 
relieve ourselves also. It is as erroneous a 
conceit to redress other men's misfortunes upon 
the common considerations of merciful natures, 
that it may be one day our own case ; for this 
is a sinister and politic kind of charity, whereby 
we seem to bespeak the pities of men in the 
like occasions. And truly I have observed The nature 
that those professed eleemosynaries, though in ^eh!gg g^i 
a crowd or multitude, do yet direct and place ^ified in 
their petitions on a few and selected persons: ward forms. 
there is surely a physiognomy, which those 
experienced and master mendicants observe, 
whereby they instantly discover a merciful as- 
pect, and will single out a face wherein they 
spy the signatures and marks of mercy. For 
there are mystically in our faces certain char- 
acters which carry in them the motto of our 



118 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 



souls, wherein lie tliat cannot read ABC may 
read our natures. I hold, moreover, that there 
is a phytognomy, or physiognomy, not only of 
men, but of plants and vegetables : and in every 
one of them some outward figures which hang 
as signs or bushes of their inward forms.* The 
finger of God hath left an inscription upon all 
his works, not graphical or composed of letters, 
but of their several forms, constitutions, parts, 
and operations, which, aptly joined together, do 
make one word that doth express their natures. 
Ps. cxivii. By these letters God calls the stars by their 
names ; and by this alphabet Adam assigned to 
every creature a name peculiar to its nature. 
Now there are, besides these characters in our 
faces, certain mystical figures in our hands, which 
I dare not call mere dashes, strokes a la volee, 
or at random, because delineated by a pencil 
that never works in vain ; and hereof I take 
more particular notice, because I carry that 
in mine own hand which I could never read 
of nor discover in another. Aristotle, I confess, 
in his acute and singular book of physiognomy, 
hath made no mention of chiromancy ; yet I 
believe the Egyptians, who were nearer ad- 



Gen, ii. 19, 
20. 



Of chirO' 
mancy. 



* Vintners were wont to hang up bushes, or garlands of ivy, 
over their doors. See Epilogue to As you like it : " If it be true 
that good wine needs no bush, 't is true that a good play needs 
no epilogue." 



J 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 119 

dieted to those abstruse and mystical sciences, 
had a knowledge therein, to which those vag- 
abond and counterfeit Egyptians did after pre- 
tend, and perhaps retained a few corrupted 
principles, which sometimes might verify their 
prognostics. 

(It is the common wonder of all men, how variety o 
among so many millions of faces there should ^"^"'^^'^ 

o J forms in 

be none alike. Now, contrary, I wonder as nature. 
much how there should be any: he that shall 
consider how many thousand several words have 
been carelessly and without study composed out 
of twenty-four letters ; withal, how many hun- 
dred lines there are to be drawn in the fabric 
of one man, shall easily find that this variety 
is necessary ; and it will be very hard that they 
shall so concur as to make one portrait like 
another. Let a painter carelessly limn out a 
million of faces, and you shall find them all 
different ; yea, let him have his copy before 
him, yet after all his art there will remain a 
sensible distinction ; for the pattern or example 
of everything is the perfectest in that kind, 
Avhereof we still come short, though we tran- 
scend or go beyond it, because herein it is wide, 
and agrees not in all points unto its copy. 
Nor doth the similitude of creatures disparage 
the variety of nature, nor any way confound 
the works of God. For even in thino-s alike 



120 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

there is diversity; and those that do seem to j 

accord do manifestly disagree. And thus is "< 

man Hke God ; for in the same things that ' 

we resemble him, we are utterly different from ' 

him. There was never anything so like an- | 

other as in all points to concur : there will ever \ 

some reserved difference slip in, to prevent * 

the identity, without which two several things j 

would not be alike, but the same, which is im- \ 

possible. ' 

^^InrM- '^^^' ^^^^ ^^ return from philosophy to char- j 

low-crea- ity I I liold uot SO nan'ow a conceit of this vir- \ 

much the ^^^' ^^ ^^ conccivc that to give alms is only ! 

object of to be charitable, or think a piece of liberality ' 

their can comprehend the total of charity. Divinity j 

bodies, hath wisely divided the act thereof into many \ 

branches, and hath taught us in this narrow ; 

way many jiaths unto goodness ; as many ways | 

as we may do good, so many ways we may be ' 

charitable: /there are infirmities not only of • 

body, but of soul, and fortunes, which do re- | 

quire the merciful hand of our abilities^ I can- \ 

not contemn a man for ignorance, but behold ; 

. i 
him with as much pity as I do Lazarus. It is j 

no greater charity to clothe his body, than ■ 

apparel the nakedness of his soul. It is an \ 

honourable object to see the reasons of other i 

men wear our liveries, and their borrowed | 

understandings do homage to the bounty of 






RELIGIO MEDICI. 121 

ours : it is the cheapest way of beneficence, and, 
Hke the natural charity of the sun, illuminates 
another without obscuring itself. To be re- 
served and caitiff in this part of goodness, is 
the sordidest piece of covetousness, and more 
contemptible than pecuniary avarice. To this 
(as calling myself a scholar) I am obliged by The duty 
the duty of my condition : I make not therefore i^g knowi- 
my head a grave, but a treasury of knowledge ; ^^^^' 
I intend no monopoly, but a community in 
learning : I study not for my own sake only, 
but for theirs that study not for themselves. 
I envy no man that knows more than myself, 
but pity them that know less. I instruct no 
man as an exercise of my knowledge, or with 
an intent rather to nourish and keep it alive in 
mine own head than beget and propagate it in 
his : and in the midst of all my endeavours, 
there is but one thought that dejects me, that 
my acquired parts must perish with myself, nor 
can be legacied among my honoured friends. 
I cannot fall out or contemn a man for an error. Differences 

, ,.^ . . . Ill of opinion 

or conceive why a diiierence m opinion should need not 
divide an affection : for controversies, disputes, •^'^'^® 

1 • 1 1 • 1 -1 11- afifection. 

and argumentations, both m philosophy and m 
divinity, if they meet with discreet and peacea- 
ble natures, do not infringe the laws of charity. 
(In all disputes, so much as there is of passion, 
so much there is of nothing to the purpose ; for 



122 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

then reason, like a bad hound, spends upon a 
false scent, and forsakes the question first start- 
ed. And in this is one reason why contro- 
versies are never determined ; for though they 
be amply proposed, they are scarce at all han- 
dled ; they do so swell with unnecessary digres- 
sions, and the parenthesis on the party is often 
as large as the main discourse upon the subject. 
The foundations of religion are already estab- 
lished, and the principles of salvation subscribed 
unto by all : there remain not many controver- 
sies worth a passion ; and yet never any disputed 
without, not only in divinity, but inferior arts. 
What a paTpa')(OfjLvofia')(^[a and hot skirmish is 
betwixt S and T in Lucian?* How do gram- 
marians hack and slash for the genitive case in 
Jupiter ! f How they do break their own pates 
to salve that of Priscian ! Si foret in terris, ri- 
deret Democritus. Yea, even amongst wiser mili- 
tants, hoAV many wounds have been given, and 
credits slain, for the poor victory of an opinion, 
or beggarly conquest of a distinction I Scholars 
are men of peace, they bear no arms, but their 
tongues are sharper than Actius his razor ; J 

* In his dialogue, judicium vucallum, where there is a large 
oration made to the vowels, being judges, by Sigma against Tau, 
complaining that Tau has bereaved him of many words, which 
should begin with Sigma. 

t Whether Jovis or Jupitris. 

X Accius Naevius is reported by Livy, Lib. i. cap. 36, to have 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 123 

their pens carry farther, and give a louder re- 
port than thunder : I had rather stand in the 
shock of a basiHsco,* than in the fury of a mer- 
ciless pen. It is not mere zeal to learning, or 
devotion to the Muses, that wiser princes pat- 
ron the arts, and carry an indulgent aspect unto 
scholars ; but a desire to have their names eter- 
nized by the memory of their writings, and a 
fear of the revengeful pen of succeeding ages ; 
for these are the men that, when they have 
played their parts, and had their exits, must 
step out and give the moral of their scenes, and 
deliver unto posterity an inventory of their vir- 
tues and vices. And surely there goes a great 
deal of conscience to the compiling of an his- 
tory : there is no reproach to the scandal of a 
story ; it is such an authentic kind of falsehood 
that with authority belies our good names to all 
nations and posterity. 

TV. [There is another offence unto charity, National 
which no author hath ever written of, and few "T^"*"^ 

chanty. 

take notice of; and that's the reproach, not of 
whole professions, mysteries, and conditions, but 
of whole nations, wherein by opprobrious epi- 
thets we miscall each other, and by an unchari- 
table logic, from a disposition in a few, conclude 



cut a whetstone through with a razor, at the challenge of the ,^ 

King, Tarquinius Priscus. | 

* BasUisco, a kind of cannon. 5 



124 RELIGIO MEDICI. ! 

a habit in all. St. Paul, that calls the Cretans \ 

liars, doth it but indirectly, and upon quotation ■ 

of their own poet.* It is as bloody a thought ' 

in one way, as Nero's was in another ; f for by ! 

a word we wound a thousand, and at one blow .1 

assassine the honour of a nation. It is as com- ■ 

plete a piece of madness to miscall and rave ^ 

against the times, or think to recall men to i 

reason by a fit of passion. Democritus, that I 

thought to laugh the times into goodness, seems \ 

to me as deeply hypochondriac as Herachtus \ 

that bewailed them. It moves not my spleen ! 

to behold the multitude in their proper hu- \ 

mours, that is, in their fits of folly and mad- ■ 

ness ; as well understanding that wisdom is not : 

profaned unto the world, and 'tis the privilege i 
of a few to be virtuous. They that endeavour > 
to abolish vice, destroy also virtue ; for contra- 

I 

* That is, Epimenides ; the place is Tit. i. v. 12, where St. i 
Paul useth this verse, taken out of Epimenides : 

Kp^Tff aei \//'eOoTat, KaKO. Brjp'ia, yaarepes dpyai. 

t I suppose he alludes to that passage in Sueton. 38, in the ' 

life of Nero, where he relates that a certain person upon a time j 
spoke in his hearing these words, 

*E/AoG BavovTos yaia fUx^fjToi rrvpi, 
i. e. When I am dead let earth be mingled with fire. Where- 
upon the Emperor uttered these words, 'E/xoO ^wvtos, i. e. Yea, 
whilst I live : there, by one word, he expressed a cruel thought 

which I think is the thing he meant. This is more cruel than i 
the wish of Caligula, that the people of Rome had but one neck, 

that he might destroy them all at a blow. ] 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 125 

ries, tliougli tliey destroy one another, are yet 
the Hfe of one another. Thus virtue (abohsh 
vice) is an idea. Again, the community of 
sin doth not disparage goodness ; for when vice 
gains upon the major part, virtue, in whom 
it remains, becomes more excellent ; and being 
lost in some, multiplies its goodness in others 
which remain untouched, and persists entire in 
the general inundation. I can therefore behold 
vice without a satire, content only with an ad- 
monition, or instructive reprehension ; for noble 
natures, and such as are capable of goodness, 
are railed into vice, that might as easily be 
admonished into virtue ; and we should be all 
so far the orators of goodness, as to protect 
her from the power of vice, and maintain the 
cause of injured truth. No man can justly Man most 
censure or condemn another, because indeed t^rknoli" 
no man truly knows another. This I perceive edge of 
in myself; for I am in the dark to all the world, " ( 

and my nearest friends behold me but in a 1 

cloud: those that know me but superficially, ; 

think less of me than I do of myself; those 
of my near acquaintance think more. God, i 

who truly knows me, knows that I am nothing ; 
for He only beholds me and all the world, who j 

looks not on us through a derived ray, or a 
trajection of a sensible species, but beholds the ,. 

substance without the help of accidents, and the \ 



126 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

forms of tilings as we their operations. iJFur- 
tlier, no man can judge another, because no 

man knows himself: for we censure others but \ 

as they disagree from that humour which we \ 

fancy laudable in ourselves, and commend oth- \ 

ers but for that wherein they seem to quadrate ' 

and consent with us. So that in conclusion, ] 

all is but that Ave all condemn, self-love. 'T is ' 

the general complaint of these times, and per- \ 

haps of those past, that charity grows cold; j 

which I perceive most verified in those which ; 

most do manifest the fires and flames of zeal ; | 

for it is a virtue that best agrees with cold- : 
est natures, and such as are complexioned for 

humility. But how shall we expect charity ; 
towards others, when we are uncharitable to 
ourselves ? Charity begins at home., is the voice 

of the world ; yet is every man his greatest , 
enemy, and as it were his OAvn executioner.)^ 

JVo7i occides^ is the commandment of God, yet ; 

scarce observed by any man ; for I perceive j 

every man is his own Atropos, and lends a \ 

hand to cut the thread of his own days. Cain i 

was not therefore the first murderer, but Adam, \ 

who brought in death ; whereof he beheld the ■ 

practice and example in his own son Abel, and \ 

saw that verified in the experience of another, j 

which faith could not persuade him in the the- \ 

ory of himself. ; 

j 



i 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 127 I 

V. There is, I think, no man that appre- ofsym- J 
hendeth his own miseries less than myself, and ^^*^^^* ■ 

no man that so nearly apprehends another's. i 

I could lose an arm without a tear, and with ' 

few groans, methinks, be quartered into pieces ; 1 

yet can I weep most seriously at a play, and i 

receive with a true passion the counterfeit griefs ,i 

of those known and professed impostures. It \ 

is a barbarous part of inhumanity to add unto i 

any afflicted party's misery, or endeavour to 
multiply in any man a passion whose single 
nature is already above his patience : this was 
the greatest affliction of Job ; and those oblique job xix. 
expostulations of his friends, a deeper injury i 

than the downrio-ht blows of the devil. It is 
not the tears of our own eyes only, but of our 
friends also, that do exhaust the current of our 
sorrows ; which falling into many streams, runs 
more peaceably, and is contented with a nar- 
rower channel. It is an act within the power of 
charity, to translate a passion out of one breast 
into another, and to divide a sorrow almost out 
of itself ; for an affliction, like a dimension, may 
be so divided, as, if not invisible, at least to 
become insensible. Now with my friend I de- 
sire not to share or participate, but to engross 
his sorrows, that, by making them mine OAvn 
I may more easily discuss them ; for in mine 
own reason, and within myself, I can com- 



128 RELIGIO MEDICI. 



mand that wliicli I cannot intreat without my- 
self, and within the circle of another. I have 
often thought those noble pairs and examples of 
friendship not so truly histories of what had 
been, as fictions of what should be ; but I now 
perceive nothing in them but possibilities, nor 
anything in the heroic examples of Damon and 
Pythias, Achilles and Patroclus, which me- 
thinks upon some grounds I could not perform 
within the narrow compass of myself. That 
a man should lay down his life for his friend, 
seems strange to vulgar affections, and such as 
confine themselves within that worldly principle, 
Charity begins at home. For mine own part, 
I could never remember the relations that I 
held unto myself, nor the respect that I owe 
unto my o^vn nature, in the cause of God, my 
country, and my friends.* Next to these three, 
I do embrace myself. I confess I do not ob- 
serve that order that the schools ordain our 
aflPections, to love our parents, wives, children, 
and then our friends ; for excepting the injunc- 

* Cf. Pope's Essay on Man : 

"Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, 
As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake ; 
The centre moved, a circle straight succeeds, 
Another still, and still another spreads ; 
Friend, parent, neighbour, next it will embrace, 
His country next, and next all human race ; 
Wide and more wide the o'erflowings of the mind 
Take every creature in of every kind." 



I 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 129 

tions of religion, I do not find in myself such a 
necessary and indissoluble sympathy to all those 
of my blood. I hope I do not break the fifth 
commandment, if I conceive I may love my 
friend before the nearest of my blood, even 
those to whom I owe the principles of life ; I 
never yet cast a true affection on a woman ; but 
I have loved my friend as I do virtue, my soul, 
my God. From hence methinks I do conceive 
how God loves man, what happiness there is 
in the love of God. Omitting all other, there 
are three most mystical unions ; two natures in 
one person ; three persons in one nature ; one 
soul in two bodies. For though indeed they 
be really divided, yet are they so united as they 
seem but one, and make rather a duality than 
two distinct souls. 

VI. There are wonders in true affection : it The mys- 
is a body of enigmas, mysteries, and riddles ; affjltion."^ 
wherein two so become one, as they both be- 
come two. I love my friend before myself, 
and yet methinks I do not love him enough: 
some few months hence, my multiplied affection 
will make me believe I have not loved him at 
all : when I am from him, I am dead till I be 
with him ; when I am with him, I am not satis- 
fied, but would still be nearer him. United souls 
are not satisfied with embraces, but desire to be 
truly each other ; which being impossible, their 



130 RELIGIO MEDICI. 



desires are infinite, and must proceed without a 
possibility of satisfaction. Another misery there 
is in affection, that whom we truly love hke our 
ownselves, we forget their looks, nor can our 
memory retain the idea of their faces ; and it 
is no wonder, for they are ourselves, and our 
affection makes their looks our own. This no- 
ble affection falls not on vulgar and common 
constitutions, but on such as are marked for 
virtue : he that can love his friend with this 
noble ardour, will in a competent degree affect 
all. Now if we can bring our affections to look 
beyond the body, and cast an eye upon the 
soul, we have found out the true object, not 
only of friendship, but charity ; and the great- 
est happiness that we can bequeath the soul 
is that wherein we all do place our last felicity, 
salvation ; Avhich though it be not in our power 
to bestow, it is in our charity and pious invoca- 
tions to desire, if not procure and further. I 
cannot contentedly frame a prayer for myself in 
particular, without a catalogue for my friends ; 
nor request a happiness wherein my sociable 
disposition doth not desire the fellowship of my 
neighbour. I never hear the toll of a passing 
bell, though in my mirth, without my prayers 
and best wishes for the departing spirit : I can- 
not go to cure the body of my patient, but I 
forget my profession, and call unto God for his 






RELIGIO MEDICI. 131 i 

soul : I cannot see one say his prayers, but, in- ' 

stead of imitating liim, I fall into a supplication 
for him, who perhaps is no more to me than a i 

common nature : and if God hath vouchsafed ] 

an ear to my supplications, there are surely j 

many happy that never saw me, and enjoy the \ 

blessing of mine unknown devotions. To pray 
for enemies, that is, for their salvation, is no i 

harsh precept, but the practice of our daily i 

and ordinary devotions. I cannot believe the 
story of the Itahan : our bad wishes and un- 
charitable desires proceed no further than this ; 
life ; it is the devil, and the uncharitable votes ; 
of hell, that desire our misery in the world to 
come. I 

VII. To do no injury, nor take none, was to forgive 
a principle, which to my former years, and ^^*^! , 

i- i- ^ J J ' sweetest : 

impatient affections, seemed to contain enough revenge. j 

of morality ; but my more settled years, and i 

Christian constitution, have fallen upon severer ; 

resolutions. I can hold there is no such thing ' 

as injury ; that if there be, there is no such \ 

injury as revenge, and no such revenge as the ] 

contempt of an injury ; that to hate another, is j 
to malign himself; that the truest way to love 
another, is to despise ourselves. I were unjust 
unto mine own conscience, if I should say I am 
at variance with anything like myself. I find 

there are many pieces in this one fabric of man ; i 



132 RELIGIO MEDICI. ^ 

this frame is raised upon a mass of antipathies : ' 

I am one, methinks, but as the world ; wherein \ 

notwithstanding, there are a swarm of distinct ' 

essences, and in them another world of contra- i 

rieties ; we carry private and domestic enemies ; 

within, public and more hostile adversaries Avith- ; 

out. The devil, that did but buifet St. Paul, '\ 

plays methinks at sharp with me : let me be \ 

nothing, if within the compass of myself I do ' 

not find the battle of Lepanto, passion against ', 
reason, reason aa;ainst faith, faith ao;ainst the 

devil, and my conscience against all. There is ; 

another man within me, that 's angry with me, ] 

rebukes, commands, and dastards me. I have \ 

no conscience of marble to resist the hammer \ 

of more heavy offences ; nor yet so soft and j 

waxen, as to take the impression of each single \ 

peccadillo or scape of infirmity: I am of a i 

strange belief, that it is as easy to be forgiven \ 
some sins, as to commit some others. For my 

original sin, I hold it to be washed away in my j 

baptism : * for my actual transgressions, I com- ,; 

pute and reckon with God but from my last * 

repentance, sacrament, or general absolution ; ; 

and therefore am not terrified with the sins or ; 



* This is most true as far as the imputation of the same is 
concerned. For where the means of avoiding its consequences I 
have been afforded, each after transgression is actual, by a 
neglect of those means. Coleridge. \ 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 133 

madness of my youth. I thank the goodness of 
God, I have no sins that want a name ; I am 
not singular in offences, my transgressions are 
epidemical, and from the common breath of our 
corruption. For there are certain tempers of 
body which, matched with an humorous deprav- 
ity of mind, do hatch and produce vitiosities, 
whose newness and monstrosity of nature admits 
no name : this was the temper of that lecher that 
carnalled with a statua, and the constitution 
of Nero in his spintrian recreations. For the 
heavens are not only fruitful in new and un- 
heard-of stars, the earth in plants and animals, 
but men's minds also in villany and vices : now 
the dulness of my reason, and the vulgarity of 
my disposition, never prompted my invention, 
nor solicited my affection unto any of these ; 
yet even those common and quotidian infirmi- 
ties that so necessarily attend me, and do seem 
to be my very nature, have so dejected me, so 
broken the estimation that I should have other- 
wise of myself, that I repute myself the most 
abjectest piece of mortality. Divines prescribe 
a fit of sorrow to repentance : there goes indig- 
nation, anger, sorrow, hatred, into mine ; pas- 
sions of a contrary nature, which neither seem 
to suit with this action, nor my proper constitu- 
tion. It is no breach of charity to ourselves, 
to be at variance with our vices : nor to abhor 



and Con 
ceit. 



134 RELIGIO MEDICI. j 

-i 

tliat part of us which is an enemy to the ground j 
of charity, our God ; wherein we do but imitate ; 
our great selves the world, whose divided an tip- '\ 
athies and contrary faces do yet carry a chari- ! 
table regard unto the whole by their particular \ 
discords, preserving the common harmony, and ; 
keeping in fetters those powers, whose rebel- ;; 
lions once masters, might be the ruin of all. \ 

Of Pride VIII. I thank God, amongst those miUions ! 
of vices I do inherit and hold from Adam, I j 
have escaped one, and that a mortal enemy j 
to charity, the first and father-sin, not only | 
of man, but of the devil, pride; a vice whose | 
name is comprehended in a monosyllable, but : 
in its nature not circumscribed with a world: < 
I have escaped it in a condition that can hardly ■ 
avoid it: those petty acquisitions and reputed \ 
perfections that advance and elevate the con- \ 
ceits of other men, add no feathers unto mine. 
I have seen a grammarian tower and plume ' 
himself over a single line in Horace, and show i 
more pride in the construction of one ode, than ' 
the author in the composm-e of the whole book. \ 
For my own part, besides the jargon and patois j 
of several provinces, I understand no less than \ 
six languages ; yet I protest I have no higher \ 
conceit of myself, than had our fathers before j 
the confusion of Babel, when there was but i 
one language in the world, and none to boast | 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 135 

himself either Unguis t or critic. I have not 
only seen several countries, beheld the nature 
of their climes, the chorography of their prov- 
inces, topography of their cities, but understood 
their several laws, customs, and policies ; yet 
cannot all this persuade the dulness of my spirit 
unto such an opinion of myself, as I behold in 
nimbler and conceited heads that never looked 
a degree beyond their nests. I know the names, 
and somewhat more, of all the constellations 
in my horizon ; yet I have seen a prating mar- 
iner, that could only name the pointers and 
the north star, out-talk me, and conceit himself 
a whole sphere above me. I know most of 
the plants of my country, and of those about 
me ; yet methinks I do not know so many 
as when I did but know a hundred, and had 
scarcely ever simpled further than Cheapside:* 
for, indeed, heads of capacity, and such as are 
not full with a handful or easy measure of 
knowledge, think they know nothing till they 
know all ; which being impossible, they fall 
upon the opinion of Socrates, and only know 
they know not anything. I cannot think that 
Homer pined away upon the riddle of the fish- 
ermen ; or that Aristotle, who understood the 

* " . . . . these lisping hawthorn buds, that come hke women in 
men's apparel, and smell like Bucklersbury in simple-time." — 
Merry Wives of Windsor, iii. 3. 



136 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

uncertainty of knowledge, and confessed so often 
the reason of man too weak for the works of 
nature, did ever drown himself upon the flux 
and reflux of Euripus. We do but learn to- 
day, what our better advanced judgments will 
unteach to-morrow ; and Aristotle doth but in- 
struct us, as Plato did him ; that is, to confute 
himself. I have run through all sorts, yet 
find no rest in any: though our first studies 
and junior endeavours may style us Peripatetics, 
Stoics, or Academics ; yet I perceive the wisest 
heads prove, at last, almost all Sceptics, and 
stand lilve Janus in the field of knowledge. 
I have therefore one common and authentic 
philosophy I learned in the schools, whereby 
I discourse and satisfy the reason of other men ; 
another more reserved, and drawn from expe- 
rience, whereby I content mine own. Solomon, 
that complained of ignorance in the height of 
knowledge, hath not only humbled my conceits, 
but discouraged my endeavours. There is yet 
another conceit that hath sometimes made me 
shut my books, which tells me it is a vanity 
to waste our days in the blind pursuit of knowl- 
edge ; it is but attending a little longer, and 
we shall enjoy that by instinct and infiision, 
which we endeavour at here by labour and 
inquisition : it is better to sit down in a modest 
ignorance, and rest contented with the natural 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 137 

blessing of our own reasons, than buy the un- 
certain knowledge of this life with sweat and 
vexation, which death gives every fool gratis, 
and is an accessary of our glorification. 

IX. I was never yet once [married], and Of mar- 
commend their resolutions who never marry ha?mony. 
twice : not that I disallow of second marriage ; 
as neither in all cases of polygamy, which, con- 
sidering some times, and the unequal number 
of both sexes, may be also necessary. The 
whole world was made for man, but the twelfth 
part of man for woman : man is the whole 
world, and the breath of God ; woman the rib, 
and crooked piece of man. I could be content 
that we might procreate like trees without con- 
junction, or that there were any way to per- 
petuate the world without this trivial and vulgar 
way of coition : it is the foolishest act a wise 
man commits in all his life ; nor is there any- 
thing that will more deject his cooled imaguia- 
tion, when he shall consider what an odd and 
unworthy piece of folly he hath committed. 
I speak not in prejudice, nor am averse from 
that sweet sex, but naturally amorous of all 
that is beautiful : I can look a whole day with 
delight upon a handsome picture, though it be 
but of an horse. It is my temper, and I like 
it the better, to affect all harmony ; and sure 
there is music even in the beauty, and the 



138 RELIGIO MEDICI. 






silent note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter 
than the sound of an instrument:* for there 
is music wherever there is harmony, order, or 
proportion: and thus far we may maintain the \ 
music of the spheres ; for those well-ordered 
motions, and regular paces, though they give 
no sound unto the ear, yet to the understand- 
ing they strike a note most full of harmony.f 
Whatsoever is harmonically composed, delights 
in harmony ; which makes me much disti-ust 
the symmetry of those heads which declaim 
against all church music. For myself, not only 
from my ohecUence, but my particular genius, 
I do embrace it: for even that vulgar and 
tavern music, Avhich makes one man merry, 
another mad, strikes in me a deep fit of de- 
votion, and a profound contemplation of the 
First Composer; there is something in it of 
divinity more than the ear discovers : it is an 

* So Daniell (Complaint of Rosamond): 

" Ah Beauty ! Syren faire, enchanting Good, 
Sweet silent Rhetorick of persuading eyes; 
Dumbe eloquence, Avhose power doth move the blood, 
More than the words or wisdom of the wise ; 
Still Hai-mony, whose diapason lies 
Within a brow ; the Key which passions move 
To ravish sense and play a world in love." 
" When Love speaks, the voice of all the gods 
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony." 

Love's Labour 's Lost, iv. 3. 
t See Merchant of Ven., v. 1. Milton's Arcades. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 139 

liieroglypliical and shadowed lesson of the whole 
world, and creatures of God; such a melody 
to the ear, as the whole world, well understood, 
would afford the understandmg.* In brief, it 
is a sensible fit of that harmony which intel- 
lectually sounds in the ears of God. It unties 
the ligaments of my frame, takes me to pieces, 
dilates me out of myself, and by degrees, me- 
thinks, resolves me into Heaven. I will not 
say, with Plato, the soul is an harmony, but 
harmonical, and hath its nearest sympathy unto 
music : thus some, whose temper of body agrees 
and humours the constitution of their souls, 
are born poets, though indeed all are naturally 
inclined unto rhythm.f This made Tacitus, 
in the very first line of his story, fall upon a 



* "Is not God's Universe a Symbol of the Godlike j is not Im- 
mensity a Temple j is not Man's History, and Men's History, a 
perpetual Evangel ? Listen, and for Organ-music thou wilt ever, 
as of old, hear the Morning Stars sing together." — Sartor Ee- 
sartus, p. 299. 

t " The old musician, who, rather figuratively we may sup- 
pose, than with philosophical seriousness, declared the soul itself 
to be nothing but harmony, provoked the sprightly remark of Cicero, 
that he drew his philosophy from the Art which he professed; but if, 
without departing from his own art, he had merely described the 
human frame as the noblest and sweetest of musical instruments, 
endued with a natural disposition to resonance and sympathy, 
alternately affecting and affected by the soul which pervades it, 
his description might, perhaps, have been physically just, and 
certainly ought not to have been hastily ridiculed." — Asiatic 
Researches, vol. iii. p. 56. 



140 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

verse;* and Cicero, the worst of poets, but 
declaiming for a poet, falls in the very first 
OurPhy- scntcnce upon a perfect hexameter, f I feel 

thTgenrri uot in me those sordid and unchristian desires ' 

cause of of vcij professiou ; I do not secretly implore \ 

humanity ^ ' ^ c^ ^ • • r> • 

at heart, ^ud wish tor plagucs, rcjoice at lamnies, re- j 

volve ephemerides and almanacks in expecta- j 

tion of malignant aspects, fatal conjmictions, and ; 

eclipses : I rejoice not at unwholesome springs, ! 

nor unseasonable winters : my prayer goes with i 

the husbandman's ; I desire everything in its \ 

proper season, that neither men nor the times j 

be out of temper. Let me be sick myself, ] 

if sometimes the malady of my patient be not ' 

a disease unto me ; I desire rather to cure his \ 

infirmities than my own necessities: where I | 

do him no good, methinks it is scarce honest ' 

gain; though I confess 'tis but the worthy ; 

salary of our well-intended endeavours. I am \ 

not only ashamed, but heartily sorry, that, be- , 

sides death, there are diseases incurable ; yet • 
not for my own sake, or that they be beyond 

my art, but for the general cause and sake of i 

humanity, whose common cause I apprehend : 

as mine own. And to speak more generally, , 

those three noble professions Avhich all civil ' 

commonwealths do honour are raised upon the j 

I 

* Vi'bem Romam in princijno reges habuere. Annales, i. 1. 1 
t In qua me non inficior mediocriter esse. Pro Archia. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 141 

fall of Adam, and are not exempt from tlieir ■ 

infirmities ; there are not only diseases incura- ' 
ble in pliysic, but cases indissolvable in laws, 

vices incorrigible in divinity. If general coun- ; 

oils may err, I do not see why particular courts i 

should be infallible: their perfectest rules are i 

raised upon the erroneous reasons of man ; and \ 

the laws of one do but condemn the rules of i 
another; as Aristotle ofttimes the opinions of 

his predecessors, because, though agreeable to ! 

reason, yet were they not consonant to his own j 
rules, and the logic of his proper principles. 

Again, to speak nothing of the sin against the St. Matt. \ 

Holy Ghost, whose cure not only, but whose §""^^^^5^ I 

nature, is unknown ; I can cure the gout or i"- 28. j 

stone in some, sooner than Divinity, pride or j 

avarice in others. I can cure vices by physic j 

when they remain incurable by divinity; and [ 

they shall obey my pills when they contemn - 

their precepts. I boast nothing, but plainly I 

say, we all labour against our own cure ; for i 

death is the cure of all diseases. There is no i 

catJiolicon or universal remedy I know, but this ; { 

which, though nauseous to queasie stomachs, i 

yet to prepared appetites is nectar, and a pleas- ' 
ant potion of immortality. 

X. For my conversation, it is like the sun's, ourPhysi- j 

with all men, and with a friendly aspect to good "^^ *'^^°^' ' 

'J ^ o eth no man j 

and bad. Methinks there is no man bad, and so bad but ^ 



142 RELIGIO MEDICI. 






that there tlie woi'st, best ; that is, while they are kept 

is^good in ^y-^i^jj^ ^\^Q circle of those qualities wherein they 
are good: there is no man's mind of such dis- 
cordant and jarring a temper, to which a tuna- 
ble disposition may not strike a harmony. Mag- 
ncB virtutes, nee minora vitia: it is the posie* 
of the best natures, and may be inverted on 
the worst. There are in the most depraved^ 
and venomous dispositions, certain pieces that ; 
remain untouched, which by an antiperistads j 
become more excellent, or by the excellency of ' J 
their antipathies are able to preserve them- 1 
selves from the contagion of their enemy vices, ; 
and persist entire beyond the general corrup- i 
tion. For it is also thus in Nature. The great- \ 
est balsams do lie enveloped in the bodies of ; 
the most powerful corrosives : I say, moreover,. ' 
and I ground upon experience, that poisons 
contain within themselves their own antidote, 1 
and that which preserves them from the venom 1 
of themselves, without which they were not \ 
deleterious to others only, but to themselves i 

and feareth also. But it is the comiptiou that I fear within .; 

his own ^ ^ contamon of commerce without me. \ 

corruption ' » ' 

more than 'T is that uuruly rcgimcut witliiu me, that will ■ 
from°'°'^ destroy me; 'tis I that do infect myself; the) 
others. j^r^n witliout a navel yet lives in me ; f I feel j 

* Posie. The motto on a ring. Cf. Hamlet, iii. 2. Mer. of ; 

Ven., V. 1. ^i 

t That is, the old Adam. '^ 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 143 

that original canker corrode and devour me ; 
and therefore defenda me Dios de me, Lord, de- 
liver me from myself, is a part of my litany, 
and the first voice of my retired imaginations. 
There is no man alone, because every man Is a 
microcosm, and carries the whole world about 
him; Nunquam minus solus quam cum solus, 
though It be the apophthegm of a wise man,* 
is yet true in the mouth of a fool ; for indeed, 
though in a wilderness, a man is never alone, 
not only because he is with himself and his own 
thoughts, but because he is with the devil, who 
ever consorts with our solitude, and is that un- 
ruly rebel that musters up those disordered 
motions which accompany our sequestered im- 
aginations : and to speak more narrowly, there 
is no such thing as solitude, nor anything that 
can be said to be alone and by itself, but God, 
who is his own circle, and can subsist by him- 
self; all others, besides their dissimilary and 
heterogeneous parts, which in a manner multi- 
ply their natures, cannot subsist without the 
concourse of God, and the society of that hand 
which doth uphold their natures. In brief, 
there can be nothing truly alone and by itself, 
which is not truly one ; and such is only God : 
all others do transcend an unity, and so by con- 
sequence are many. 

* Publius Scipio. Cic. de Off., lib. iii. 



144 RE LI G 10 MEDICI. 

Man's life XI. ,Now for mv life, it is a miracle of thirty 

a constant " - 

miracle. jears, whicn to relate, were not a history, hut 
a piece of poetry, and would sound to common 
ears like a fahle : for the world, I count it not 
an inn, hut an hospital ; and a place not to live, 
hut to die in. The world that I regard is my- 
self; it is the microcosm of mine own frame that' 
I cast mine eye on ; for the other, I use it butj 
like my globe, and turn it round sometimes for 
my recreation. Men that look upon my out- 
side, perusing only my condition and fortunes, 
do err in my altitvide ; for I am above Atlas his 
shoulders. The Earth is a point not only in 
respect of the heavens above us, but of that 
heavenly and celestial part within us : that mass 
of flesh that circumscribes me, limits not my 
mind : that surface that tells the heavens it hath 
an end, cannot persuade me I have any : I take 
my circle to be above three hundred and sixty ; 
though the number of the arc do measure my! 
body, it comprehendeth not my mind : whilst I 
study to find how I am a microcosm, or little 
world, I find myself something more than the; 
great. There is surely a piece of divinity in 
us, something that was before the elements, and 
owes no homage unto the sun. Nature tells me 

Gen. i. 27. I am the image of God, as well as Scripture 
he that understands not thus much, hath not 
his introduction or first lesson, and is yet to 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 145 i 

! 

begin the alphabet of man. Let me not injure 
the fehcity of others, if I say I am as happy as 
any : Ruat coelum, fiat voluntas tua, salveth all ; 
so that whatsoever happens, it is but what our ] 
daily prayers desire. In brief, I am content; ] 
and what should Providence add more ? Surely j 
this is it we call happiness, and this do I enjoy ; j 
with this I am happy in a dream, and as con- j 
tent to enjoy a happiness in a fancy, as others 
in a more apparent truth and reality. There is of Dreams. | 
surely a nearer apprehension of anything that ! 
delights us in our dreams, than in our waked j 
senses : without this I were unhappy ; for my i 
awaked judgment discontents me, ever whisper- i 
ing unto me, that I am from my friend ; but i 
my friendly dreams in the night requite me, I 
and make me think I am within his arms. I ! 
thank God for my happy dreams, as I do for i 
my good rest, for there is a satisfaction in them 
unto reasonable desires, and such as can be 
content with a fit of happiness : and surely it is , 
not a melancholy conceit to think we are all ^ 
asleep in this world, and that the conceits of j 
this life are as mere dreams to those of the \ 
next ; as the phantasms of the night, to the con- 1 
ceits of the day. There is an equal delusion j 
in both, and the one doth but seem to be the j 
emblem or picture of the other : we are some- 
what more than ourselves in our sleeps, and ' 
10 I 



146 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

the slumber of the body seems to be but the 
waking of the soul. It is the ligation of sense, 
but the liberty of reason ; and our waking con- 
ceptions do not match the fancies of oiu' sleeps. 
At my nativity my ascendant Avas the watery 
sign of Sccfi'pius; I was born in the planetary 
hour of Saturn, and I think I have a piece of 
that leaden planet in me.* I am no way face- 
tious, nor disposed for the mirth and galliardize 
of company ; yet in one dream I can compose 
a whole comedy, behold the action, and appre- 
hend the jests, and laugh myself awake at the 
conceits thereof. Were my memory as faithful 
as my reason is then fruitful, I would never 
study but in my dreams ; and this time also 
would I choose for my devotions : but our gross- 
er memories have then so little hold of our 
abstracted understandings, that they forget the 
story, and can only relate to om* awaked souls 
a confused and broken tale of that that hath 
passed. ' Aristotle, who hath written a singular 
tract of sleep, hath not, methinks, thoroughly 
defined it; nor yet Galen, though he seem to 
have corrected it; for those noctambuloes and 
night-walkers, though in their sleep, do yet 
enjoy the action of their senses : we must there- 
fore say that there is something in us that is 
not in the jurisdiction of Morpheus ; and that 

* Cf. Hor. Od. ii. xvii. 17. 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 147 j 

■] 

those abstracted and ecstatic souls do walk about i 

in their own corps, as spirits with the bodies .: 

they assume, wherein they seem to hear, see, ; 

and feel, though indeed the organs are destitute ; 

of sense, and their natures of those faculties ^ 

that should inform them. Thus it is observed, ^ 

that men sometimes, upon the hour of their 1 

departure, do speak and reason above them- i 
selves. For then the soul, beginning to be 

freed from the ligaments of the body, begins to ' 

reason like herself, and to discourse in a strain i 

above mortality.* j 
XII. We term sleep a death; and yet it is Of sleep. ' 

•j 

* That the soul is endowed with clearer faculties just before j 

its separation from the body, is an opinion of great antiquity. 
See Bishop Newton's fourth Dissertation on Prophecy, and com- ' 

pare Daniell (Civil Wars, iii. 62), 1562. 

Whether the soul receives intelligence, ' 

By her near Genius, of the body's end, I 

And so imparts a sadness to the sense. 
Foregoing ruin, whereto it doth tend j 

Or whether Nature else hath conference • 

With profound Sleep, and so doth warning send, ; 

By prophetizing dreams, what hurt is near, \ 

And gives the heavy careful heart to fear." ; 

And Waller: a 

\ 
The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, \ 

Lets in new light thro' chinks that time hath made: \ 

Stronger by weakness, wiser men become, . \ 

As they draw near to their eternal home. 

Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, 

That stand upon the threshold of the new." 

Compare Shakspeare' s King Richard IL, ii. 1. \ 



148 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

waking that kills us, and destroys those spirits 
that are the house of hfe. 'T is indeed a part 
of life that best expresseth death ; for every 
man truly lives, so long as he acts his nature, 
or some way makes good the faculties of him- 
self. Themistocles, therefore, that slew his sol- 
dier in his sleep, was a merciful executioner: 
'tis a kind of punishment the mildness of no 
laws hath mvented: I wonder the fancy of 
Lucan and Seneca did not discover it. It is 
that death by which we may be literally said 
to die daily; a death which Adam died be- 
fore his mortality ; a death whereby we live a 
middle and moderating point between life and 
death: in fine, so like death, I dare not trust 
it without my prayers, and an half adieu unto 
the world, and take my farewell in a colloquy 
with God. 

I The night is come; like to the day, 
Depart not thou, great God, away. 
Let not my sins, bhick as the night, 
Echpse the histre of thy light. 
Keep still in my horizon : for to me 
The sun makes not the day, but Thee. 
Thou whose nature cannot sleep. 
On my temples sentry keep : 
Guard me 'gainst those watchful foes, 
Whose eyes are open while mine close. 
Let no dreams my head infest. 
But such as Jacob's temples blest. 
Whilst I do rest, my soul advance ; 
Make my sleep a holy trance : 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 149 

That I may, my rest being wrought, 
Awake into some holy thought. 
And with as active vigour run 
My course, as doth the nimble sun. 
Sleep is a death, make me try, 
By sleeping, what it is to die : 
And as gently lay my head 
On my grave, as now my bed. 
Howe'er I rest, great God, let me 
Awake again at last with Thee. 
And thus assured, behold I lie 
Securely, or to wake or die. 
These are my drowsy days ; in vain 
I do now wake to sleep again : 
come that hour, when I shall never 
Sleep thus again, but wake for ever. 

This is the dormitive I take to bedward; I 
need no other laudanum than this to make me 
sleep ; after which I close mine eyes in security, 
content to take my leave of the sun, and sleep 
mito the resurrection. 

XIII. The method I should use in distribu- justice. 
tive justice, I often observe in commutative, and 
keep a geometrical proportion in both, whereby 
becoming equable to others, I become unjust 
to myself, and supererogate in that common 
principle, Do unto others as tJiou wouldst he done 
unto thyself. I was not born unto riches, nei- Ayaricea 
ther is it, I think, my star to be wealthy ; or ^j^^*^" °"^ 
if it were, the freedom of my mind, and frank- 
ness of my disposition, were able to contradict 
and cross my fates: for to me, avarice seems 
not so much a vice, as a deplorable piece of 



150 RELIGIO MEDICI, 

madness ; * to conceive ourselves urinals, or be 
persuaded that we are dead, is not so ridiculous, 1 
nor so many degrees beyond the power of helle- .5 
bore,t as this. The opinions of theory, and : 
positions of men, are not so void of reason, as 
their practised conclusions: some have held that i 
snow is black, that the earth moves, that the ■ 
soul is air, fire, water; but all this is philoso- ! 
phy, and there is no delirium, if we do but ; 
speculate the folly and indisputable dotage of \ 
avarice. J To that subterraneous idol, and god S 
of the earth, I do confess I am an atheist; ; 
I cannot persuade myself to honour that the 
world adores ; whatsoever virtue its prepared ; 
substance may have within my body, it hath \ 
no influence nor operation without: I woidd ' 
not entertain a base design, or an action that 
should call me villain, for the Indies ; and for ] 
this only do I love and honour my own soul, 
and have methinks two arms too few to em- \ 
Poor men bracc mysclf. § Aristotle is too severe, that ; 



* " That a man who is Deputy Lieutenant of the whole world, 
should not act like a Prince within his territories, is a thing to 
be counted more a matter of prodigy than proof." — Keligio Juris- 
prudentis. 

t Hellebore was thought to be a specific against madness. 

J i. e. There is nothing worthy of the name delirium when 
compared with the folly, &c. 

§ There is an error here. Aristotle distinctly says (Eth. iv. 2) 
that tnie liberality consists not in the magnitude of the gift, but 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 151 ■ 

i 
] 

will not allow us to be truly liberal without maybe ' 
wealth, and the bountiful hand of fortune : if * ^^ ' 

this be true, I must confess I am charitable only ; 

in my liberal intentions, and bountiful well- j 

wishes. But if the example of the mite be not st. Luke \ 

only an act of wonder, but an example of the ^^'•^"'*- i 
noblest charity, surely poor men may also build ^^^d may 
hospitals, and the rich alone have not erected Hospitals 

cathedrals. I have a private method which ^"^^ ^^"^®' i 
others observe not; I take the opportunity of 

myself to do good ; I borrow occasion of charity | 

from my own necessities, and supply the wants * 

of others, when I am in most need myself; * 1 

for it is an honest stratagem to take advantage ) 

of ourselves, and so to husband the acts of \ 
virtue, that where they were defective in one 

circumstance, they may repay their want, and ' 

multiply their goodness in another. f I have ! 

not Peru in my desires, but a competence and j 

ability to perform those good works, to which | 

the Almighty hath inclined my nature. He '' 

is rich, who hath enough to be charitable ; and i 
it is hard to be so poor, that a noble mind may 
not find a way to this piece of goodness. ^ He 

in the disposition of the giver: but he says (Eth. iv. 5) that a j 

man with slender means cannot be munificent. \ 

* When I am reduced to the last tester, I love to divide it with j 

the poor. MSS. and Ed. 1642. j 

t Essays of Elia, 1st part. ■ 



152 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

prov. xix. that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord : * 
^^' there is more rhetoric m that one sentence, 

than m a hbrary of sermons ; and indeed if 
those sentences were miderstood by the reader, 
with the same emphasis as they are dehvered 
by the Author, we need not those volumes of 
instinictions, but might be honest by an epitome. 
Upon this motive only I cannot behold a beggar 
without relieving his necessities with my purse, 
or his soul with my prayers ; these scenical and 
accidental differences between us, cannot make 
me forget that common and untouched part 
of us both : there is under these centoes and 
Job xxxi. miserable outsides, these mutilate and semi-bod- 
ies, a soul of the same alloy with our own, 
whose genealogy is God as well as ours, and 
in as fair a way to salvation as ourselves. f 
Statists that labour to contrive a commonwealth 

* In St. George's Church, Doncaster, is to be seen this epi- 
taph : — 

That I spent, that I had: 



13 -K 



How now, who is here? 
I, Robin of Doncastere 
And IMargaret my fere. 



That I gave, that I have : 
That I left, that I lost. 
A. D. 1579. 
Quoth Robertus Byrks, who in this world did reign 
S score years and 7, and yet lived not one. 

t So Herbert: 

"Man is God's image; but a poor man is 
Christ's stamp to boot: both images regard. 
God reckons for him, counts the favour His : 
Write, So much given to God: thou shalt be heard." 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 153 

without poverty, take away the object of char- 
ity, not only not understanding the common- ^*- ^^^"* 
wealth of a Christian, but forgetting the proph- cf. Deut. 
ecy of Christ. 

XIV. Now there is another part of charity, Godaione 
which is the basis and pillar of this, and that disown 
is the love of God, for whom we love our sake ; and 

n ^ ' -r ^ • ^ ^ • ^ r^ 2 ^^"^ neigh- 

neighbour ; for this I thmk charity, to love God bour for 
for himself, and our neighbour for God.* All ^°*^'®' 
that is truly amiable is God, or as it were a 
divided piece of him, that retains a reflex or 
shadow of himself. Nor is it strange that we 
should place affection on that which is invisible : 
all that we truly love is thus ; what we adore 
under affection of our senses, deserves not the 
honour of so pure a title. Thus we adore vir- 
tue, though to the eyes of sense she be invisi- 
ble : thus that part of our noble friends that we 
love, is not that part that we embrace, but that 
insensible part that our arms cannot embrace. 
God being all goodness, can love nothing but 
himself; he loves us but for that part which 
is as it were himself, and the traduction of his 
Holy Spirit. f Let us call to assize the loves 

* " Flatter not thyself in thy faith to God, if thou wantest 
charity for thy neighbour: and think not thou hast charity for 
thy neighbour, if thou wantest faith to God : where they are not 
both together, they are both wanting ; they are both dead if once 
divided." — Quarles's Enchiridion, Cent. ii. 11. 1650. 

t " Every true Virtue is a part of that Love with which God 
loveth hinaself." — Spinosa. 



154 RELIGIO MEDICI. 

of our parents, the affection of wives and chil- 
dren, and they are all dumb shows and dreams, 
without reality, truth, or constancy: for first, 
there is a strongr bond of affection between us 
and our parents ; yet how easily dissolved ! we 
betake ourselves to a woman, forget our mother 
in a wife, and the womb that bare us, in that 
that shall bear our imao;e : this woman blessinoj 
us with childi-en, our affection leaves the level 
it held before, and sinks from our bed unto our 
issue and picture of posterity, where affection 
holds no steady mansion. They growing up 
in years, desire our ends ; or applying them- I 
selves to a woman, take a la^vful way to love j 
another better than ourselves. Thus I per- i 
ceive a man may be buried alive, and behold \ 
his grave in his own issue. \ 

Our Physi- XV. I coucludc therefore and say, there is \ 
ciudeth no happiness under (or, as Copernicus will have ^ 
and de- -^ above) the sun, nor any crambe in that re- i 

clareth his ' -^ ' *' ^ • 

belief that peatcd Verity and burthen of all the wisdom \ 

bappinesT ^^ Solomou, All is Vanity and vexation of spirit ; j 

but in God. there is no felicity in that the world adores, j 

Aristotle, whilst he labours to refute the ideas ! 

of Plato, falls upon one himself: for his sum- \ 

mum honum is a chimera, and there is no such ] 

thing as his felicity. That wherein God him- j 

self is happy, the holy angels are happy, in ' 

whose defect the devils are unhappy ; that dare j 



RELIGIO MEDICI. 155 

I call happiness: whatsoever conduceth unto 
this, may with an easy metaphor deserve that 
name; whatsoever else the world terms hap- 
piness, is to me a story out of PHny, an ap- 
parition, or neat delusion, wherein there is no 
more of happiness than the name. Bless me 
in this life with hut peace of my conscience, 
command of my affections, the love of Thy- 
self and my dearest friends, and I shall be 
happy enough to pity Cassar. These are, O 
Lord, the humble desires of my most reason- 
able ambition, and all I dare call happiness on 
earth ; wherein I set no rule or limit to thy 
hand or providence : dispose of me 
according to the wisdom of thy 
pleasure : thy will be done, 
though in my own 
undoing. 



Letter to a Friend 



Upon occasion of the Death 

OF HIS intimate 

Friend. 



\ 




Letter to a Friend 




'^,; IVE me leave to wonder that news 
of this nature should have such 
heavy wings that you should hear 
so little concerning your dearest 
Friend, and that I must make that unwilling 
repetition to tell you, ad portam rigidos calces 
extendit^ that he is dead and buried, and by 
this time no puny among the mighty nations 
of the dead ; for though he left this world not 
very many days past, yet every hour you know 
largely addeth unto that dark society ; and con- 
sidering the incessant mortality of mankind, you 
cannot conceive there dieth in the whole earth 
so few as a thousand an hour. 

Although at this distance you had no early 
account or particular of his death, yet your 
affection may cease to wonder that you had 
not some secret sense or intimation thereof 



160 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 






by dreams, thoughtful whisperings, mercurisms, 
airy nuncios, or sympathetica! insinuations, 
which many seem to have had at the death of 
their dearest friends : for since we find in that 
famous story,* that spirits themselves were fain 
to tell their fellows at a distance that the great 
Antonio was dead, we have a sufficient excuse 
for our icrnorance in such particulars, and must 
rest content Avith the common road, and Appian 
way of knowledge by information. Though the 
uncertainty of the end of this world hath con- 
founded all human predictions, yet they who 
St Matt, shall live to see the smi and moon darkened, 

xxiv. 29. 

and the stars to fall from heaven, will hardly 
be deceived in the advent of the last day ; and 
therefore strange it is, that the common fallacy 
of consumptive persons, who feel not themselves 
dying, and therefore still hope to live, should 
also reach their friends in perfect health and 
judgment : that you should be so little acqviaint- 
ed with Plautus his sick complexion, or that 
almost an Hippocratical face should not alarum 
you to higher fears, or rather despair, of his 
continuation in such an emaciated state, where- 
in medical predictions fail not, as sometimes in 
acute diseases, and wherein 't is as dangerous to 
N be sentenced by a Physician as a Judge. 

* In Plutarch his Defect of Oracles, wherein he relates that a 
voice was heard cry ins: to mariners at sea, Great Pan is dead. 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 161 

Upon my first visit I was bold to tell them 
who had not let fall all hopes of his recovery, 
that in my sad opinion he was not like to be- 
hold a grasshopper, much less to pluck another 
fig; and in no long time after, seemed to dis- 
cover that odd mortal symptom in him not 
mentioned by Hippocrates, that is, to lose his 
own face, and look like some of his near rela- 
tions : for he maintained not his proper counte- 
nance, but looked like his uncle, the hues of 
whose face lay deep and invisible in his health- 
ful visage before : for as from our beginning we 
run through variety of looks, before we come 
to consistent and settled faces, so before our 
end, by sick and languishing alterations, we 
put on new visages, and in our retreat to earth 
may fall upon such looks, which from commu- 
nity of seminal originals were before latent 
in us. 

He was fruitlessly put in hope of advantage 
by change of air, and imbibing the pure aerial 
nitre of these parts ; and therefore, being so far 
spent, he quickly found Sardinia in Tivoli,* and 
the most healthful air of little effect, where 

* The unwholesome atmosphere of Sardinia was as proverbial 
as the salubrity of Tivoli. 

" Nullo fata loco possis excludere : cum mors 
Venerit, in medio Tibure Sardinia est." 

Mart. iv. Ix. 5. 
Cf. Tac. Annal. ii. 85. 

11 



162 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 

Death had set her broad arrow ; * for he Hved 
not unto the middle of May, and confirmed the 
observation of Hippocrates of that mortal time 
of the year, when the leaves of the fig-tree 
resemble a daw's claw. He is happily seated 
who lives in places whose air, earth, and water 
promote not the infirmities of his weaker parts, 
or is early removed into regions that correct 
them. He that is tabidly inclined were unwise 
to pass his days in Portugal: cholical persons 
will find Httle comfort in Austria or Vienna: 
he that is weak-leojo-ed must not be in love with 
Rome, nor an infirm head with Venice or Paris. 
Death hath not only particular stars in heaven, 
but malevolent places on earth, which single 
out our infirmities and strike at our weaker 
parts ; in which concern, passager and migrant 
birds have the great advantages, who are natu- 
rally constituted for distant habitations, whom 
no seas nor places limit, but in their appointed 
seasons will visit us from Greenland and Mount 
Atlas, and as some think, even from the An- 
tipodes. 

Though we could not have his life, yet we 
missed not our desires in his soft departure, 
which was scarce an expiration ; and his end . 
not unlike his beginning, when the salient point ■ 

* In the Queen's forests the mark of a broad arrow is set upon 
such trees as are to be cut down. 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 163 

scarce affords a sensible motion, and his de- 
parture so like unto sleep, that he scarce needed 
the civil ceremony of closing his eyes ; contrary 
unto the common way, wherein death draws 
up, sleep lets fall the eyelids. With what strife 
and pains we come into the world we know 
not, but 'tis commonly no easy matter to get 
out of it : yet if it could be made out, that such 
who have easy nativities have commonly hard 
deaths, and contrarily ; his departure was so 
easy, that we might justly suspect his birth was 
of another nature, and that some Juno sat Garden of 
cross-legged at his nativity. Besides his soft ^l^l] 
death, the incurable state of his disease might 
somewhat extenuate your sorrow, who know 
that monsters but seldom happen, miracles more 
rarely, in Physick. Angelus Victorius gives videCon- 

^ ,'1.1 sultationes. 

a serious account oi a consumptive, hectical, 
phthisical woman, who was suddenly cured by 
the intercession of lo-natius. We read not of 
any in Scripture who in this case applied unto 
our Saviour, though some may be contained 
in that large expression, that He went about st-^^att. 
Galilee healing all manner of sickness, and all 
manner of diseases. Amulets, spells, sigils, and 
incantations, practised in other diseases, are 
seldom pretended in this ; and we find no sigil 
in the Archidoxis of Paracelsus to cure an ex- 
treme consumption or marasmus, which, if other 



164 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 

diseases fail, will put a period unto long livers, 
and at last makes dust of all. And therefore 
the Stoics could not but think that the fiery 
principle would wear out all the rest, and at 
last make an end of the world ; which notwith- ■ 
standing, without such a lingering period, the 
Creator may effect at his pleasure, and to make 

Reiigio an end of all things on earth, and our planetical 
^ '"'^ * system of the world. He need but put out 
the sun. 

I was not so curious to entitle the stars unto 
any concern of his death, yet could not but 
take notice that he died when the moon was 
in motion from the meridian : at which time, 
an old Italian long ago would persuade me, 
that the greatest part of men died : but herein 
I confess I could never satisfy my curiosity, al- 
though from the time of tides in places upon or 
near the sea, there may be considerable deduc- 
tions, and Phny hath an odd and remarkable' 
passage concerning the death of men and ani- 
mals upon the recess or ebb of the sea.* How- 
ever, certain it is, he died in the dead and deep 
part of the night, when Nox might be most 
apprehensibly said to be the daughter of Chaos, 

Hesiod,^^ the mother of Sleep and Death, according to 
old genealogy; and so went out of this world 

* Cf. Plin. Hist. Nat. ii. 98. Mead de Imperio Soils atque Lunce. 
Sliaks. Henry Vth, ii. 3. 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 165 

about that hour when our blessed Saviour en- 
tered it, and about what time many conceive 
he will return again unto it. Cardan hath a 
peculiar and no hard observation from a man's 
hand, to know whether he was born in the day 
or night, which I confess holdeth in my own ; 
and Scaliger to that purpose hath another from 
the tip of the ear. Most men are begotten in 
the night, animals in the day ; but whether more 
persons have been born in the night or the day, 
were a curiosity undecidable, though more have 
perished by violent deaths in the day, yet in 
natural dissolutions both times may hold an 
indifferency, at least but contingent inequality. 
The whole course of time runs out in the na- 
tivity and death of things ; which whether they 
happen by succession or coincidence, are best 
computed by the natural, not artificial, day. 

That Charles the Fifth was crowned upon the 
day of his nativity, it being in his own power 
so to order it, makes no singular animadver- 
sion ; but that he should also take King Francis 
prisoner upon that day was an unexpected co- 
incidence, which made the same remarkable. 
Antipater, who had an anniversary feast every 
year upon his birthday, needed no astrological 
revolution to know what day he should die on. 
When the fixed stars have made a revolution 
unto the points from whence they first set out, 



166 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 

some of the ancients thought the world would 
have an end, which was a kind of dying upon 
the day of its nativity. Now the disease pre- 
vailing and swiftly advancing about the time of 
his nativity, some were of opinion that he would 
leave the world on the day he entered into it : 
but this being a lingering disease, and creeping 
softly on, nothing critical was found or expect- 
ed, and he died not before fifteen days after. 
Nothing is more common with infants than to 
die on the day of their nativity, to behold the 
worldly hours, and but the fractions thereof; 
and even to perish before their nativity in the 
hidden world of the womb, and before their 
good angel is conceived to undertake them. 
But in persons who outlive many years, and 
when there are no less than three hundred and 
sixty-five days to determine their hves every 
year, — that the first day should make the last, 
that the tail of the snake should return into its 
mouth precisely at that time, and they should 
wind up upon the day of their nativity, — is 
indeed a remarkable coincidence, which, though 
astrology hath taken witty pains to salve, yet 
hath it been very wary in making predictions 
of it.* In this consumptive condition, and re- 
markable extenuation, he came to be almost 

* This remarkable coincidence happened in our author's case: 
he himself died on the seventy-sixth anniversary of his birthday. 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 167 

half himself, and left a great part behind him 
which he carried not to the grave. And though 
that story of Duke John Ernestus Mansfield Turkish 
be not so easily swallowed that at his death his p.^i483.' 
heart w^as not found to be so big as a nut ; yet 
if the bones of a good skeleton weigh little 
more than twenty pounds, his inwards and flesh 
remaining could make no bouffage, but a light 
bit for the grave. I never more lively beheld 
the starved characters of Dante in any living 
face ; * an aruspex might have read a lecture 
upon him without exenteration, his flesh being 
so consumed, that he might in a manner have 
discerned his bowels without opening of him : 
so that to be carried, sextd cervice^ to the grave, 
was but a civil unnecessity ; and the comple- 
ments of the coflin might outweigh the subject 
of it. Omnibonus Ferrarius, in mortal dysen- Dearte 
teries of children, looks for a spot behind the infantium. 
ear ; in consumptive diseases some eye the com- 
plexion of moles ; Cardan eagerly views the 
nails, some the lines of the hand, the thenar 
or muscle of the thumb ; some are so curious as 

* Dante, describing a very emaciated countenance, says : 
" Who reads the name 
Of man upon his forehead, there the M 
Had traced most plainly." 

Purg. c. xxiii. 28. 

Alluding to the conceit that the letters M may be traced in 
the human face. Cf. Hydriotaphia, cap. 3. 



168 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 



Aul. Cell, 
iii. 36. 



Physiolo- 
gia barbae 
human 03. 



Ps. xc. 10. 



to observe the depth of the throat-pit, how the 
proportion varieth of the small of the legs unto 
the calf, or the compass of the neck unto the 
circumference of the head : but all these, with 
many more, were so drowned in a mortal vis- 
age, and last flice of Hippocrates, that a weak 
physiognomist might say at first eye, this was 
a face of earth, and that Morta had set her hard 
seal upon his temples, easily perceiving what 
cancatura draughts Death makes upon pined 
faces, and unto what an unknown degree a man 
may live backward. 

Though the beard be only made a distinction 
of sex, and sign of masculine heat by Ulmus, 
yet the precocity and early growth thereof in 
him was not to be liked in reference unto lono; 
life. Lewis, that virtuous but unfortunate King 
of Hungary, who lost his life at the battle of 
Mohacz, was said to be born without a skin, 
to have bearded at fifteen, and to have shown 
some gray hairs about twenty ; from whence the 
diviners conjectured, that he would be spoiled 
of his kingdom and have but a short life : but 
hairs make fallible predictions, and many tem- 
ples early gray have outlived the Psalmist's 
period. Hairs which have most amused me 
have not been in the face or head, but on the 
back, and not in men but children, as I long 
ago observed in that endemial distemper of 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 169 

[little children in Languedoc, called the Mor- ^^^^^^^ 
gellons^ wherein they critically break out with matismo. 
iharsh hairs on their backs, which takes off the 
unquiet symptoms of the disease, and delivers 
them from coughs and convulsions. 

The Egyptian mummies that I have seen 
have had their mouths open, and somewhat 
gaping, which affordeth a good opportunity to 
view and observe their teeth, wherein 'tis not 
easy to find any wanting or decayed; and there- 
fore in Egypt, where one man practised but one 
operation, or the diseases but of single parts, 
it must needs be a barren profession to confine 
unto that of drawing of teeth, and little better 
than to have been tooth-drawer unto King Pyr- 
rhus, who had but two in his head.* How 
the Bannyans of India maintain the integrity of 
those parts, I find not particularly observed; 
who notwithstanding have an advantage of their 
preservation by abstaining from all flesh, and 
employing their teeth in such food unto which 
they may seem at first framed, from their fig- 
ure and conformation : but sharp and corroding 
rheums had so early mouldered those rocks and 
hardest parts of his fabric, that a man might 
well conceive that his years were never like 

* " Pyrrhus had an air of majesty rather terrible than august. 
Instead of teeth in his upper jaw he had one continued bone, 
marked with small lines resembling the divisions of a row of 
teeth." — Plutarch. 



170 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 

to double, or twice tell over liis teeth. Cor- 
ruption liad dealt more severely with them than] 
sepulchral fires and smart flames with those 
of burnt bodies of old; for in the burnt frag- 
ments of urns which I have enquired into, al- 
though I seem to find few incisors or shearers, j 
yet the dog teeth and grinders do notably resist j 
those fires. In the years of his childhood he • 
had languished under the disease of his conn- \ 
try, the rickets; after which notwithstanding, ' 
many have become strong and active men ; ' 
but whether any have attained unto very great ' 
years, the disease is scarce so old as to afford i 
good observation. Whether the children of the 
English plantations be subject unto the same in- ^ 
firmity, may be worth the observing. Wheth- | 
er lameness and halting do still increase among ; 
the inhabitants of Rovigno in Istria, I know j 
not; yet scarce twenty years ago Monsieur du ' 
Loyr observed, that a third part of that people : 
halted : but too certain it is that the rickets in- ' 
creaseth among us ; the small-pox grows more ; 
pernicious than the great ; the king's purse ' 
knows that the kind's evil Pjrows more com- ' 
mon. Quartan agues are become no stran- \ 
gers in Ireland, more common and mortal in 
England: and though the ancients gave that ; 
disease very good words,* yet now that bell j 

* a(T(f)a\i(TTaTos 5e navTcov Ka\ prj'icTTOs Koi fiaKporaros 
6 TfTapToios. Hippoc. Epidem. i. 86. 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 171 

makes no strange sound which rings out for 
the effects thereof. 

Some think there were few consumptions in 
the old world, when men lived much upon 
milk ; and that the ancient inhabitants of this 
island were less troubled with coughs when they 
went naked and slept in caves and woods, than 
men now in chambers and feather-beds. Plato 
will tell us that there was no such disease as a 
catarrh in Homer's time, and that it was but 
new in Greece in his age. Polydore Virgil 
delivereth that pleurisies were rare in England, 
who lived in the days of Henry the Eighth. 
Some will allow no diseases to be new, others 
think that many old ones are ceased, and that 
such which are esteemed new, will have but 
their time : however, the mercy of God hath 
scattered the great heap of diseases, and not 
loaded any one country with all : some may 
be new in one country which have been old in 
another : new discoveries of the earth discover 
new diseases : for besides the common swarm, 
there are endemial and local infirmities proper 
unto certain regions, which in the whole earth 
make no small number : and if Asia, Africa, 
and America should bring in their list, Pan- 
dora^ s box would swell, and there must be a 
strange Pathology. 

Most men expected to find a consumed kell, 



172 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 

empty and bladder-like guts, livid and marbled 
lungs, and a withered pericardium in this ex- 
succous corpse : but some seemed too much to 
wonder that two lobes of his lungs adhered 
unto his side: for the like I have often found 
m bodies of no suspected consumptions or dif- 
ficulty of respiration. And the same more often 
happeneth in man than other animals, and some 
think in women than in men ; but the most 
remarkable I have met with was in a man, 
after a cough of almost fifty years, in whom 
all the lobes adhered unto the Pleura, and each 
lobe vmto another ; who having also been much 
troubled with the gout, brake the rule of Car- 
dan, and died of the stone in the bladder.* 
Aristotle makes a query, why some animals 
cough, as man ; some not, as oxen. If cough- 
ing be taken as it consisteth of a natural and 
voluntary motion, including expectoration and 
spitting out, it may be as proper unto man as 
bleeding at the nose ; otherwise we find that 
Vegetius and iiiral writers have not left so 
many medicines in vain against the coughs of 
cattle ; and men who perish by coughs die the 
death of sheep, cats, and lions : and though birds 
have no midriff, yet we meet with divers reme- 

* Cardan in his Encomium Podagras, reckonetli this among the 
d/yna Podagrcz^ that they are dehvered thereby from Phthisis 
and Calculus. 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 173 

dies in Arrianus against the cougli of hawks. 
And though it might be thought that all ani- 
mals who have lungs do cough, yet in ceta- 
ceous fishes, who have large and strong lungs, 
the same is not observed, nor yet in oviparous 
quadrupeds : and in the greatest thereof, the 
crocodile, although we read much of their tears, 
we find nothing of that motion. 

From the thoughts of sleep, when the soul 
was conceived nearest unto divinity, the an- 
cients erected an art of divination, wherein 
while they too widely expatiated in loose and 
inconsequent conjectures, Hippocrates wisely Deinsom- 
considered dreams as they presaged alterations 
in the body, and so offered hints toward the 
preservation of health and prevention of dis- 
eases : and therein was so serious as to advise 
alteration of diet, exercise, sweating, bathing, 
and vomiting ; and also so religious, as to or- 
der prayers and supplications unto respective 
deities ; in good dreams unto Sol^ Jupiter coeles- 
tis, Jupiter opulentus, Minerva^ Mercurius^ and 
Apollo: in bad, unto Tellus^ and the Heroes. 
And therefore I could not but take notice how 
his female friends were irrationally curious so 
strictly to examine his dreams, and in this low 
state to hope for the phantasms of health. He 
was now past the healthful dreams of the sun, 
moon, and stars, in their clarity and proper 



174 LETTER TO A FRIEND. ^ 

\ 
courses. 'T was too late to dream of flying, of . 
limpid fountains, smooth waters, white vest-| 
ments, and fruitful green trees, which are the' 
visions of healthfiil sleeps, and at good distance j' 
from the grave. 

And they were also too deeply dejected that 
he should dream of his dead friends, inconse- 
quently divining, that he would not be long from 
them ; for strange it was not that he should 
sometimes dream of the dead, Avhose thoughts | 
inin always upon death ; besides, to dream of j 
the dead, so they appear not in dark habits, ■ 
and take nothing away from us, in Hippocrates | 
his sense, was of good signification : for we live ; 
by the dead, and everything is or must be so j 
before it becomes our nourishment. And Car- 
dan, who dreamed that he discoursed with his I 
dead Father in the moon, made thereof no \ 
mortal interpretation: and even to dream that : 
we are dead, was no condemnable phantasm in ; 
old Oneirocriticism, as having a signification of I 
liberty, vacuity from cares, exemption and free- i 
dom from troubles unknown unto the dead. 

Some dreams I confess may admit of easy | 
and feminine exposition ; he who dreamed that i 
he could not see his right shoulder, might easily j 
fear to lose the sight of his right eye ; he that ] 
before a journey dreamed that his feet were cut i 
off, had a plain warning not to undertake his • 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 175 

intended journey. But why to dream of let- 
tuce should presage some ensuing disease, why 
to eat figs should signify foolish talk, why to 
eat eggs great trouble, and to dream of blind- 
ness should be so highly commended, accord- 
ing to the oneirocritical verses of Astrampsy- 
chus and Nicephorus, I shall leave unto your 
divination. 

He was willing to quit the world alone and 
altogether, leaving no earnest behind him for 
corruption or after-grave, having small content 
in that common satisfaction to survive or live 
in another, but amply satisfied that his disease 
should die with himself, nor revive in a poster- 
ity to puzzle physic, and make sad mementos 
of their parent hereditary. Leprosy awakes 
not sometimes before forty, the gout and stone 
often later ; but consumptive and tabid roots 
sprout more early, and at the fairest make 
seventeen years of our life doubtful before that 
age. They that enter the world with original 
diseases as well as sin, have not only common 
mortality, but sick traductions, to destroy them, 
make commonly short courses, and live not at 
length but in figures ; so that a sound ccesarean 
nativity may outlast a natural birth, and a 
knife may sometimes make way for a more 
lasting fruit than a midwife ; which makes so 
few infants now able to endure the old test of 



176 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 

the river,* and many to have feeble children 
who could scarce have been married at Sparta, 
and those provident states who studied strong 
and healthful generations ; which happen but 
contingently in mere pecuniary matches, or 
marriages made by the candle, wherein notwith- 
standing there is little redress to be hoped from 
an Astrologer or a Lawyer, and a good discern- 
ing Physician were like to prove the most suc- 
cessfld counsellor. 

Julius Scaliger, who in a sleepless fit of the 
gout could make two hundred verses in a night, 
would have but five plain words upon his tomb.f 
And this serious person, though no minor wit, 
left the poetry of his epitaph unto others, either 
unwilling to commend himself, or to be judged 
by a distich, and perhaps considering how un- 
happy great Poets have been in versifying their 
own epitaphs: wherein Petrarcha, Dante, and 
Ariosto have so unhappily failed, that if their 
tombs should outlast their works, posterity 
would find so little of Apollo on them, as to 
mistake them for Ciceronian Poets. 

\^In this deliberate and creeping progress unto 
the grave, he was somewhat too young, and of 

* " Durum ab stirpe genus, natos ad flumina primum 
Deferimus, ssevoque gelu duramus et undis." 

Virg. ^u. ix. 603. 

t IVLII C^ESARIS SCALIGERI QVOD FVIT. 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 177 

too noble a mind, to fall upon that stupid symp- 
tom observable in divers persons near their 
journey's end, and which may be reckoned 
among the mortal symptoms of their last disease : 
that is, to become more narrow-minded, misera- 
ble, and tenacious, unready to part with any- 
thing, when they are ready to part with all, 
and afraid to want Avhen they have no time to 
spend; meanwhile Physicians, who know that 
many are mad but in a single depraved imagi- 
nation, and one prevalent decipiency, and that 
beside and out of such single deliriums a man 
may meet with sober actions and good sense in 
Bedlam, cannot but smile to see the heirs and 
concerned relations gratulating themselves on 
the sober departure of their friends ; and though 
they behold such mad covetous passages, con- 
tent to think they die in good understanding, 
and in their sober senses. 

Avarice, which is not only infidelity but idol- .^|^^°^^' 
atry, either from covetous progeny or questu- 
ary education, had no root in his breast, who 
made good works the expression of his faith, 
and was big with desires unto public and lasting- 
charities ; and surely where good wishes and 
charitable intentions exceed ability, theorical 
beneficency may be more than a dream. They 
build not castles in the air who would build 
churches on earth ; and though they leave no 
12 



iii. 5. 



Rel. Med. 
Pfc. ii. c. 
xiii. 



178 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 

such structures here, may lay good foundations 
in Heaven.* In brief, his Hfe and death were 
such, that I could not blame them who wished 
the like, and almost, to have been himself ; 
almost, I say, for though we may wish the 
prosperous appurtenances of others, or to be 
another in his happy accidents, yet so intrin- 
sical is every man unto himself, that some 
doubt may be made, whether any would ex- 
change his being, or substantially become an- 
other man. 

He had wisely seen the world at home and 
abroad, and thereby observed under what vari- 
ety men are deluded in the pursuit of that 
which is not here to be found. And although 
he had no opinion of reputed felicities below, 
and apprehended men widely out in the esti- 
mate of such happiness, yet his sober contempt 
of the world wrought no Democratism or Cyni- 
cism., no laujrhino; or snarlino; at it, as well 
understandins: there are not felicities in this 
world to satisfy a serious mind ; and there- 
fore to soften the stream of our lives, we are 
fain to take in the reputed contentations of this 
world, to unite with the crowd in their beati- 
tudes, and to make ourselves happy by consor- 

* So Wordsworth (Eccles. Sonnet, King's Coll. Chapel): 
" They dreamt not of a perishable home 
Who thus could build." 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 179 \ 

tion, opinion, or co-existimation : for strictly to 
separate from received and customary felicities, ; 

and to confine unto the rigour of realities, were 
to contract tlie consolation of our beings unto 
too uncomfortable circumscriptions. i 

Not to fear death, nor desire it, was short of j 

his resolution : to be dissolved, and be with ^ co""- v- 1- ] 
Christ, was his dying ditty. He conceived his | 

thread too long, in no long course of years, \ 

and when he had scarce outlived the second life ■ 

of Lazarus ; * esteeming it enough to approach ] 

the years of his Saviour, who so ordered his \ 

own human state, as not to be old upon earth. '\ 

But to be content with death may be better 
than to desire it: a miserable life may make 
us wish for death, but a virtuous one to rest in j 

it ; which is the advantage of those resolved j 

Christians, who looking on death not only as | 

the sting, but the period and end of sin, the I 

horizon and isthmus between this life and a i 

better, and the death of this world but as a 
nativity of another, do contentedly submit unto i 

the conunon necessity, and envy not Enoch or Gen. v. 24. 

^,. Heb. xi. 5. I 

■CiUaS. 2 Kings ii. j 

Not to be content with hfe is the unsatisfac- 
tory state of those who destroy themselves ; who : 

* S. Epiphanius mentions a tradition that Lazarus had died j 

at the age of thirty when he was raised from the dead by our \ 

Lord, and that he hved thirty years afterwards. Epiphan. Hseres. 
Ixvi. c. 39. ' 



180 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 

being afraid to live, run blindly upon tbeir own 
death, which no man fears by experience ; and 
the Stoics had a notable doctrine to take away 
the fear thereof, that is, in such extremities, to 
desire that which is not to be avoided, and wish 
what miorht be feared, and so made evils volun- 
tary, and to suit with their own desires, which 
Rei. Med. ^qq\ ^ff ^hc terror of them. But the ancient 
martyrs were not encouraged by such fallacies ; 
who, though they feared not death, were afraid 
to be their own executioners, and therefore 
thought it more wisdom to crucify their lusts 
than their bodies, to circumcise than stab their 
hearts, and to mortify than kill themselves. 

His willinmiess to leave this world about that 
age when most men think they may best enjoy 
it, though paradoxical unto worldly ears, was 
not strancre unto mine, who have so often ob- 
served that many, though old, oft stick fast unto 
the world, and seem to be drawn like Cacus 
his oxen, backward, with great struggling and 
reluctancy, unto the grave.* The long habit 
of living makes meer men more hardly to part 
with life, and all to be nothing but what is to 
come. To live at the i-ute of the old world, 
when some could scarce remember themselves 

* Cacus -was a robber, who having stolen Hercules his oxen on 
Mount Aventiue, dragged them backwards into his cave, that 
their tracks might not be discovered. Livy, 1. 7. Virg. Mn. 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 181 

young, may afford no better digested death than 
a more moderate period. Many would have 
thought it an happiness to have had their lot 
of hfe in some notable conjunctures of ages 
past : but the uncertainty of future times hath 
tempted few to make a part in ages to come. 
And surely, he that hath taken the true altitude 
of things, and rightly calculated the degenerate 
state of this age, is not like to envy those that 
shall live in the next, much less three or four 
hundred years hence, when no man can com- 
fortably imagine what face this world will car- 
ry : and therefore, since every age makes a step 
unto the end of all things and the Scripture 
affords so hard a character of the last times, 
quiet minds will be content with their genera- 
tions, and rather bless ages past, than be ambi- 
tious of those to come. 

Though Age had set no seal upon his face, 
yet a dim eye might clearly discover fifty in 
his actions ; and therefore, since wisdom is the 
gray hair, and an unspotted life old age, al- 
though his years came short, he might have 
been said to have held up with longer livers, 
and to have been Solomon's old man. And "^'^^^^ ^^ 

7 - 14. 

surely if we deduct all those days of our life 
which we might wish unlived, and which abate 
the comfort of those we now live, if we reckon 
up, only those days which God hath accepted 



iv. 13. 



182 LETTER TO A FRIEND. 

of our lives, a life of good years will hardly 
be a span long, the son in this sense may out- 
live the father, and none be climacterically old. 
He that early arriveth unto the parts and pru- 
dence of age, is happily old without the uncom- 
fortable attendants of it: and 'tis superfluous 
to live unto gray hairs, when in a precocious 
temper we anticipate the virtues of them. In 
brief, he cannot be accounted young who out- 
liveth the old man. He that hath early ar- 
Ephes. j^iygfj unto the measure of a perfect stature in 
Christ, hatli already fulfilled the prime and 
longest intention of his being : and one day 
lived after the perfect rule of piety is to be 
preferred before sinning immortality. Although 
he attained not unto the years of his prede- 
cessors, yet he wanted not those preserving 
virtues which confirm the thread of weaker con- 
stitutions. Cautelous Chastity and crafty Sobri- 
ety were far from him ; those jewels were para- 
gon, without flaw, hair, ice, or cloud in him: 
wliich affords me a hint to proceed 
in these good wishes, and 
few mementos unto 
you. 



True 



Christian Morals. 




To the Right Honourable 

DAVID, EARL OF BUCHAN, 

Viscount Auchterhouse, Lord Cardross and Glendovachie, one of 
the Lords Commissioners of Police, and Lord Lieutenant of 
the Counties of Stirling and Clackmannan in North Britain. 

My Lord, — 

THE honour you have done our family obligeth 
us to make all just acknowledgments of it ; 
and there is no form of acknowledgment in our 
power, more worthy of your Lordship's acceptance, 
than this dedication of the last Work of our honoured 
and learned Father. Encouraged hereunto by the 
knowledge we have of your Lordship's judicious rel- 
ish of universal learning and sublime virtue, we beg 
the favour of your acceptance of it, which will very 
much oblige our family in general, and her in partic- 
ular, who is. 

My Lord, 
Your Lordship's most humble servant, 

Elizabeth Littleton. 





PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 



F any one, after he lias read Religio 
Medici, and the ensuing Discourse, 
can make doubt whether the same 
person was the Author of them 
both, he may be assured by the testimony of 
Mrs. Littleton, Sir Thomas Browne's daughter, 
who lived with her father when it was com- 
posed by him, and who, at the time, read it 
written by his own hand ; and also by the tes- 
timony of others (of whom I am one) who 
read the manuscript of the Author immedi- 
ately after his death, and who have since read 
the same, from which it hath been faithfully 
and exactly transcribed for the press. The 
reason why it was not printed sooner is, be- 
cause it was unhappily lost, by being mislaid 
among other manuscripts, for which search 



188 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 

was lately made in the presence of the Lord 
Archbishop of Canterbury, of which his Grace 
by letter informed Mrs. Littleton, when he 
sent the manuscript to her. There is nothing 
printed in the Discourse, or in the short notes, 
but what is found in the original manuscript 
of the Author, except only where an oversight 
had made the addition or transposition of some 
words necessary. 

JOHN JEFFERY, 

ARCHDEACON OF NORWICH. 



Christian Morals. 



PART I. 



^ READ softly and circumspectly in 
this fnnambulatory track and nar- 
row path of goodness : pursue virtue 
virtuously : leaven not good actions, 



nor render virtues disputable. Stain not fair 
acts with foul intentions : maim not uprightness 
by halting concomitances, nor circumstantially 
deprave substantial goodness. 

Consider whereabout thou art in Cebes his 
table, or that old philosophical pinax of the life 
of man : * whether thou art yet in the road of 
uncertainties ; whether thou hast yet entered 
the narrow gate, got up the hill and asperous 
way, which leadeth unto the house of sanity ; 
or taken that purifying potion from the hand 



* The Pinax, or tablet, of Cebes, a Theban philosopher, in 
which the life of man is represented in a beautiful allegory. 



190 CHRISTIAN MORALS. i 

of sincere erudition, which may send thee clear 1 
and pure away unto a virtuous and happy life. ^ 
Milton, jj^ this virtuous voyage of thy life hull not 

Par. Lost, , , ^ . . . ^ . "^ ^ , , • 

xi 840. about like the ark, without the use oi rudder, I 

mast, or sail, and bound for no port. Let not ' 

disappointment cause despondency, nor difficulty " 

despair. Think not that you are saihng from ! 

Lima to Manilla^ when you may fasten up the \ 

rudder, and sleep before the wind ; but expect i 

rough seas, flaws, and contrary blasts ; and it is 

well if by many cross tacks and veerings you ' 

arrive at the port ; for we sleep in lions' skins i 

in our progress unto virtue, and we shde not, ' 

but climb unto it. I 

Sit not down in the popular forms and com- | 

mon level of virtues. Offer not only peace- ^ 

h xuM'v=- offerings, but holocausts unto God ; where all 

T^''''^''l*.u is due make no reserve, and cut not a cumin- 

Anst. Eth. ' 

iv. 1. seed with the Almighty ; to serve him singly to - 

serve ourselves were too partial a piece of piety, , 

not like to place us in the illustrious mansions i 
of glory. 

II. Rest not in an ovation, but a triumph 

over thy passions. Let anger walk hanging ■ 
down the head ; let malice go manacled, and 

envy fettered, after thee. Behold within thee ' 

the long train of thy trophies, not without thee. ] 

Make the quarrelling Lapithytes sleep, and Cen- ■ 

taurs within lie quiet. Chain up the unruly i 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 191 

legion of tliy breast. Lead tliine own captivity 
captive, and be CaBsar within thyself. 

III. He that is chaste and continent not to 
impair his strength, or honest for fear of con- 
tagion, will hardly be heroically virtuous. Ad- 
journ not this vh'tue until that temper, when 
Cato could lend out his wife, and impotent sa- 
tyrs write satires upon lust. 

IV. Show thy art in honesty, and lose not 
thy virtue by the bad managery of it. Be 
temperate and sober : not to preserve your body 
in an ability for w^anton ends ; not to avoid the 
infamy of common transgressors that way, and 
thereby to hope to expiate or palliate obscure 
and closer vices ; not to spare your purse, nor 
simply to enjoy health ; but in one word, that 
thereby you may truly serve God, which every 
sickness will tell you you cannot well do with- 
out health. The sick man's sacrifice is but 
a lame oblation. Pious treasures laid up in 
healthful days, plead for sick non-performances, 
without which we must needs look back with 
anxiety upon the lost opportunities of health, 
and may have cause rather to envy than pity 
the ends of penitent public sufferers, who go 
with healthful prayers unto the last scene of 
their lives, and in the integrity of their faculties 
return their spirit unto God that gave it. 

V. Be charitable before wealth make thee 



192 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

St. Mark covetous, and lose not the glory of the mite. 

xii 41-44. . . 

If riches increase, let thy mind hold pace with 

them; and think it not enough to be liberal, 

St. Matt. X. i3ut munificent. Though a cup of cold water 

St. Mark from souic hand may not be without its reward, 

ix.4i. yg^ stick not thou, for wine and oil for the 

St. Lukex. '^ , ^ , ,. , T , 

34. wounds of the distressed ; and treat the poor, 

12 1?'"'^'' ^^ ^^^^' Saviour did the multitude, to the reliques 
of some baskets. Diffuse thy beneficence early, 
and while thy treasures call thee master : there 
may be an Atropos of thy fortunes before that 
of thy life, and thy wealth cut off before that 
hour when all men shall be poor ; for the justice 
of death looks equally upon the dead, and Cha- 
ron expects no more from Alexander than from 
Irus.* 

Ecci. xi. 2. VI. Give not only unto seven, but also unto 
eight, that is, unto more than many. Though 

St. Matt. V. to give unto every one that asketh may seem 
severe advice, yet give thou also before asking ; 
that is, where want is silently clamorous, and 
men's necessities, not their tongues, do loudly 
call for. thy mercies. For though sometimes 
necessitousness be dumb, or misery speak not 
out ; yet true charity is sagacious, and will find 
out hints for beneficence. Acquaint thyself 

* Irus, a beggar (Odyss. xviil. 233) whose poverty became 
proverbial : 

*' Irus ei est subito, qui modo Croesus eraV — Ovid. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 193 

with the physiognomy of want, and let the dead 
colours and first lines of necessity suffice to tell 
thee there is an object for thy bounty. Spare 
not where thou canst not easily be prodigal, 
and fear not to be undone by mercy ; for since p^'o'^- ^^• 
he who hath pity on the poor lendeth unto the 
Almighty rewarder, who observes no ides * but 
every day for his payments, charity becomes 
pious usury, Christian liberality the most thriv- 
ing industry, and what we adventure in a cock- 
boat may return in a carrack unto us. He who 
thus casts his bread upon the water shall surely eccI. xi. i. 
find it again ; for though it falleth to the bottom, 
it sinks but like the axe of the prophet, to rise 2 Kings vi. 
again unto him. 

yil. If avarice be thy vice, yet make it not 
thy punishment. Miserable men commiserate 
not themselves ; bowelless unto others, and mer- 
ciless unto their own bowels. Let the fruition 
of things bless the possession of them, and think 
it more satisfaction to live richly than die rich. 
For since thy good works, not thy goods, will 
follow thee; since wealth is an appurtenance 
of life, and no dead man is rich ; to famish in 
plenty, and live poorly to die rich, were a mul- 
tiplying improvement in madness, and use upon 
use in folly. 

* Ides, the middle day of the Koman mouth, on which money- 
put out to interest was commonly repaid. 



Rev. xiv. 
13. 



194 CHRISTIAN MORALS. \ 

I 

VIII. vTrust not to the omnipotency of gold, I 
jobxxxi. and say not unto it, Thou art my confidence, j 

Kiss not thy hand to that terrestrial sun, nor \ 
Ex. xxi. 6. bore thy ear unto its servitude. A slave unto 
. oi* * mammon makes no servant unto God. Covet- , 

VI. Li. 

St. Luke ousness cracks the sinews of faith, numbs the ! 
apprehension of anything above sense ; and only j 
affected with the certainty of things present, i 
makes a peradventure of things to come ; lives j 
but unto one world, nor hopes but fears anoth- \ 
cr ; makes their own death sweet unto others, : 
bitter unto themselves ; brings formal sadness, J 
scenical mourning, and no wet eyes at. the J 
srave. ■ 

IX. Persons lightly dipped, not grained in ; 
generous honesty, are but pale in goodness, and ; 
faint-hued in integrity. But be thou what thou \ 
virtuously art, and let not the ocean wash away ,' 
thy tincture. Stand magnetically upon that : 
axis, when prudent simplicity hath fixed there ; j 
and let no attraction invert the poles of thy I 
honestv. Tliat vice may be uneasy and even i 
monstrous unto thee, let repeated good acts and j 
Ions confirmed habits make virtue almost nat- '' 
ural, or a second nature in thee. Since virtu- ' 
ous superstructions have commonly generous ., 
foundations, dive into thy inclinations, and earlyj 
discover what nature bids thee to be, or tells^ 
thee thou may est be. They who thus timely . 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 195 

descend into themselves, and cultivate the good 
seeds which nature hath set in them, prove not 
shrubs but cedars in their generation. And to 
be in the form of the best of the bad, or the 
worst of the good, will be no satisfaction unto 
them. 

X. Make not the consequence of virtue the 

ends thereof. Be not beneficent for a name or ^t-Matt. 

VI. 1, 2. 

cymbal of applause ; nor exact and just in com- 
merce for the advantages of trust and credit, 
which attend the reputation of true and punc- 
tual dealing : for these rewards, though unsought 
for, plain virtue will bring with her. To have 
other by-ends in good actions sours laudable 
performances, which must have deeper roots, 
motives, and instigations, to give them the stamp 
of virtues. 

XI. Let not the law of thy country be the 
non ultra of thy honesty ; nor think that always 
good enough which the law will make good. 
Narrow not the law of charity, equity, mercy. 
Join gospel righteousness with legal right. Be 
not a mere Gamaliel in the faith, but let the 
Sermon on the Mount be thy Targum unto the st. Matt. v. 

, PC* vi. Tii. 

law or femai. Ex. xx. 

XII. Live by old ethics and the classical 

rules of honesty. Put no new names or no- cf.Thucyd. 
tions upon authentic virtues and vices. Think 
not that morality is ambulatory; that vices in 



196 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

one ao-e are not vices in another ; or that vir- 
tues, which are under the everlasting seal of 
right reason, may be stamped by opinion. And 
therefore, though vicious times invert the opin- 
ions of things, and set up new ethics against 
virtue, yet hold thou unto old morality; and 

Ex.xxiii.2. rather than follow a multitude to do evil, stand 
like Pompey's pillar conspicuous by thyself, and 
single in integi'ity. And since the worst of 
times afford imitable examples of virtue ; since 
no deluge of vice is like to be so general but 
more than eight will escape; eye well those 
heroes who have held their heads above water, 
who have touched pitch and not been defiled, 
and in the common contao-ion have remained 
unconnipted. 

XIII. Let age, not envy, draw wrinkles on 
thy cheeks; be content to be envied, but envy 
not. Emulation may be plausible and indigna- 
tion allowable, but admit no treaty with that 
passion which no circumstance can make good. 
A displacency at the good of others because 
they enjoy it, though not unworthy of it, is an 
absurd depravity, sticking fast unto corrupted 
nature, and often too hard for humility and 
charity, the great suppressors of envy. This 
surely is a lion not to be strangled but by 
Hercules himself, or the highest stress of our 

rhii. iii.2i. miuds, and an atom of that power which sub- 
duetli all things unto itself. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 197 

XIV. Owe not thy humility unto humiha- 
tion from adversity, but look humbly down in 
that state when others look upwards upon thee. 
Think not thy own shadow longer than that 
of others, nor dehght to take the altitude of 
thyself. Be patient in the age of pride, when 
men live by short intervals of reason under the 
dominion of humour and passion, when it is in 

the power of every one to transform thee out Hor. Ep.i. 
of thyself, and run thee into the short madness. 
If you cannot imitate Job, yet come not short of 
Socrates, and those patient Pagans who tired the J"^- ^at. 
tongues 01 their enemies, while they perceived 
they spit their malice at brazen walls and statues. 

XV. Let not the sun in Capricorn* go down Eph.iv.26. 
upon thy wrath, but write thy wrongs in ashes. 
Draw the curtain of night upon injuries, shut 

them up in the tower of obhvion,f and let them 
be as though they had not been. To forgive 
our enemies, yet hope that God will punish 
them, is not to forgive enough. To forgive 
them ourselves, and not to pray God to forgive 
them, is a partial piece of charity. Forgive 
thine enemies totally, and without any reserve, 
that however, God will revenge thee. 

* Even when the days are shortest. 

t Alluding unto the Tower of Oblivion mentioned by Proco- 
pius, as a place of imprisonment among the Persians : whoever 
was put therein was, as it were, buried alive, and it was death 
for any but to name him. 



198 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 



XVI. While thou so hotly disclaimest the 
devil, be not guilty of diabolism. Fall not 
into one name * with that unclean spirit, nor 
act his nature whom thou so much abhorrest ; 
that is, to accuse, calumniate, backbite, whisper, 
detract, or sinistrously interpret others. De- 
generous depravities, and narrow-minded vices ! 
not only below St. Paul's noble Christian, but 
Aristotle's f true gentleman. Trust not with 
some that the Epistle of St. James is apocry- 
phal, and so read with less fear that stabbing 
f',/*™**' truth, that in company Avitli this vice thy re- 
licrion is in vain. Moses broke the tables with- 
out breaking of the law ; but where charity 
is broke, the law itself is shattered, which can- 
not be whole Avithout Love, which is the fulfil- 
ling of it. Look humbly upon thy virtues ; and 
though thou art rich in some, yet think thyself 
poor and naked without that crowning grace. 



26 

Ex. xxxii 
19. 



Rom. xiii 
10. 



1 Cor. xiii. wliicli thinketh no evil, which envieth not, which 

beareth, hopeth, believeth, endureth all things. 

With these sure graces, while busy tongues are 

xvi 24 * crying out for a drop of cold water, mutes 

Rev.iT.8. may be in happiness, and sing the Trisagion in 

heaven. 

XVII. However thy understanding may wa- 
ver in the theories of true and false, yet fasten 

* One name, 6 hid^oKos, the calumniator. 

t Compare Arist. Ethics, iv. 7, and Komans xiii. 



H 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 199. 

the rudder of thy will, steer straight unto good, 
and fall not foul on evil. Imagination is apt 
to rove, and conjecture to keep no bounds. 
Some have run out so far, as to fancy the stars 
might be but the light of the crystalline heaven 
shot through perforations on the bodies of the 
orbs. Others more ingeniously doubt whether 
there hath not been a vast tract of land in the 
Atlantic Ocean, which earthquakes and violent 
causes have long ago devoured. Speculative 
misapprehensions may be innocuous, but immo- 
rality pernicious ; theorical mistakes and physi- 
cal deviations may condemn our judgments, not 
lead us into judgment. But perversity of will, 
immoral and sinful enormities, walk with Adras- 
te and Nemesis at their backs, pursue us unto 
judgment, and leave us viciously miserable. 

XVIII. Bid early defiance unto those vices 
which are of thine inward family, and having 
a root in thy temper plead a right and propri- 
ety in thee. Raise timely batteries against those 
strong-holds built upon the rock of nature, and 
make this a great part of the militia of thy life. 
Delude not thyself into iniquities from partici- 
pation or community, which abate the sense 
but not the obliquity of them. To conceive 
sins less, or less of sins, because others also 
transgress, were morally to commit that natu- 
ral fallacy of man, to take comfort from society, 



200 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

and think adversities less because others also 
suffer them. The poUtic nature of vice must 
be opposed by policy; and, therefore, wiser 
honesties project and plot against it : wherein, 
notwithstanding, we are not to rest in generals, 
or the trite stratagems of art. That may suc- 
ceed with one, which may prove successless 
Avith another: there is no community or com- 
mon Aveal of virtue: every man must study his 
own economy, and adapt such rules unto the 
figure of himself. 

XIX. Be substantially great in thyself, and 
more than thou appearest unto others ; and let 
the world be deceived in thee, as they are in 
the lights of heaven. Hang early plummets 
upon the heels of pride, and let ambition have 
but an epicycle and narrow circuit in thee. 
Measure not thyself by thy morning shadow, 
but by the extent of thy grave ; and reckon 
thyself above the earth, by the line thou must 
be contented with under it. Spread not into 
boundless expansions either of designs or desires. 
Think not that mankind liveth but for a few ; 
and that the rest are born but to serve those 
ambitions which make but flies of men and 
wildernesses of whole nations. Swell not into 
vehement actions which embroil and confound 
the earth ; but be one of those violent ones 
St. Matt. ^y]jj(,]j force the kinordom of heaven. If thou 

XI. 12. o 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 201 

must needs rule, be Zeno's king,* and enjoy 

that empire which every man gives himself. 

, He who is thus his own monarch contentedly 

sways the sceptre of himself, not envying the 

glory of crowned heads and elohim of the earth. 

; Could the world unite in the practice of that 

despised train of virtues, which the divine eth- 

' ics of our Saviour hath so inculcated upon us, 

'the furious face of things must disappear; Eden 

""would be yet to be found, and the angels might 

look down, not with pity, but joy upon us. 

XX. Though the quickness of thine ear were 
able to reach the noise of the moon, which some 
think it maketh in its rapid revolution ; though 
the number of thy ears should equal Argus his 
eyes: yet stop them all with the wise man's 
Cwax,t and be deaf unto the suggestions of tale- 
bearers, calumniators, pick-thank or malevolent 
delators, who, while quiet men sleep, sowing st.Matt. 
the tares of discord and division, distract the 
tranquillity of charity and all friendly society. 

* The Stoics illustrated their doctrines by describing an ideal 
personage whom they called "The wise man"; and he (they 
said) " was the only King, the only Dictator, the only Rich Man." 
Cic. de Finibus, iii. 22. Hor. Sat. i. iii. 

" The way to subject all things to thy selfe, is to subject thy- 
selfe to reason : thou shalt govern many, if reason govern thee : 
wouldst thou be crowned the monarch of a little world ? com- 
mand thy selfe." — Quarles's Enchir., ii. 19. 

t Wise man's wax. Ulysses adopted this plan to escape the 
enchantment of the Sirens. Odyss. M. 173. 



xiii. 25. 



202 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 



1 



st.jame8 ^liese are the tongues that set the world on 

iii.6. ^ 

2Tim. u. fire, cankers of reputation, and, like that of 
Jonah iv. Jo^^s his gourd, wither a good name in a night. 
6, 7. Evil spirits may sit still, while these spirits walk 
about and perform the business of hell. To 
speak more strictly, our corrupted hearts are 
the factories of the devil, which may be at 
work without his presence ; for when that cir- 
cumventing spirit hath drawn malice, envy, and 
all unrighteousness unto Avell-rooted habits in 
his disciples, iniquity then goes on upon its own 
legs ; and if the gate of hell were shut up for a • 
time, vice would still be fertile and produce the 
fruits of hell. . Thus, when God forsakes us,"^) | 
Satan also leaves us ; for such offenders he look^ j 
upon as sure and sealed up, and his temptations\ s 
then needless unto them. j 

XXI. ; Annihilate not the mercies of God 
by the oblivion of ingratitude : for oblivion is j 
a kind of annihilation ; and for things to be as ! 
though they had not been, is like unto never ] 
being. INIake not thy head a grave, but a re- J 
pository of God's mercies. Though thou hadst ; 
the memory of Seneca, or Simonides, and con- ' 
science, the jDunctual memorist within us, yet \ 
trust not to thy remembrance in things which \ 
need phylacteries. Register not only strange, : 
but merciful occurrences. Let ephemerides, j 
not olympiads, give thee account of His mer- I 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 203 

cies ; * let tliy diaries stand thick with dutiful 
mementos and asterisks of acknowledo-ment. 
And to be complete and forget nothing, date 
not his mercy from thy nativity; look beyond 
the world, and before the sera of Adam. 

XXII. Paint not the sepulchre of thyself, 
and strive not to beautify thy corruption. Be 
not an advocate for thy vices, nor call for many 
hour-glasses to justify thy imperfections. f Think 
not that always good which thou thinkest thou 
canst always make good, nor that concealed 
which the sun doth not behold ; that which the st. Luke 
sun doth not now see will be A^sible when the 
sun is out, and the stars are fallen from heaven. 
Meanwhile there is no darkness unto conscience, icor.iy.5. 
which can see without light, and in the deepest 
obscurity give a clear draught of things, which 
the cloud of dissimulation hath concealed from 
all eyes. There is a natural standing court 
within us, examining, acquitting, and condemn- 
ing at the tribunal of ourselves ; wherein iniqui- 
ties have their natural thetas J and no nocent 
is absolved by the verdict of himself. § And 

* Let ephemerides, &c., that is, Take note of God's mercies day 
by day, not merely every four years. 

t In the Athenian Courts the time allowed to each pleader 
was measured by a kind of hour-glass, called clepshydra. 

X Theta, 0, was the symbol used in condemnation to capital 
punishment, being the initial letter of Qdvaros. 

§ " Sejudice, nemo nocens ahsolvitur.''^ — Juv. Sat. xiii. 2. 



204 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 






therefore, although our transgressions shall h&i 
tried at the last bar, the process need not ba^ 
long: for the Judge of all knoweth all, andj 
every man will nakedly know himself; and^l 
when so few are like to plead not guilty^ the i 
assize must soon have an end. I 

XXIII. Comply with some humours, bearf 
with others, but serve none. Civil compla- 
cency consists with decent honesty. Flattery 
is a juggler, and no kin unto sincerity. But 
while thou maintainest the plain path, and scorn-i 
est to flatter others, fall not into self-adulation, 
and become not thine own parasite. Be deaf 
unto thyself, and be not betrayed at home. 
Self-credulity, pride, and levity lead unto self- 
idolatry. There is no Damocles* like unto self«S 
opinion, nor any Siren to our own fawning | 
conceptions. To magnify our minor things, or j 
hug ourselves in our apparitions ; to afford a '' 
credulous ear unto the clawing suggestions of 
fancy ; to pass our days in painted mistakes ^ 
of ovirselves, and though we behold our own i 
blood to think ourselves the sons of Jupiter: , 
are blandishments of self-love, worse than out- i 
ward delusion. By this imposture, wise men \ 
sometimes are mistaken in their elevation, and ' 
look above themselves. And fools, which are 
antipodes unto the wise, conceive themselves to 

* Damocles, the parasite and flatterer of Dionysius. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 205 - 

be but their periceci, and in the same paraUel j 

with them. \ 

XXIV. Be not a Hercules Furens abroad, i 

and a poltroon within thyself. To chase our .i 
enemies out of the field, and be led captive by 

our vices ; to beat down our foes, and fall down | 

to our concupiscences ; are solecisms in moral ; 
schools, and no laurel attends them. To well 

manage our affections, and wild horses of Plato, ^ 

are the highest Circenses:* and the noblest \ 

digladiation is in the theatre of ourselves ; for | 

therein our inward antagonists, not only like \ 
common gladiators, with ordinary weapons and 

downright blows make at us, but also like reti- j 

ary and laqueary combatants, with nets, frauds, | 

and entanglements, fall upon us. Weapons for ^ 
such combats are not to be forged at Lipara;t 

Vulcan's art doth nothing in this internal mi- | 

htia, wherein, not the armour of Achilles, but , 

the armature of St. Paul, gives the glorious Eph^^^. | 

day, and triumphs, not leading up into capitols, " : 

'but up into the highest heavens. And, there- 
fore, while so many think it the only valour to 
command and master others, study thou the 

* Plato speaks of man as a charioteer driving two refractory 
steeds, given to quarrel; one being immortal and heavenly, the 

other mortal and of the earth. XaXfTr^ hx] /cai BvaKoXos e^ ' 

dvdyKTjs I) TTfpl flixas i]Vi6xr](TiS. Ph^drus, xxv. ; 

t Lipara, where Vulcan's stithy was said to be. \ 



206 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 



\ 



dominion of thyself, and quiet thine own com- I 
motions. Let right reason be thy Lycurgus, I 
and lift up thy hand unto the law of it : move by I 
the intelhgences of the superior faculties, not bjL 
the rapt of passion, nor merely by that of tern- • 
per and constitution. They who are merely j 
carried on by the wheel of such inclinations, ; 
without the hand and guidance of sovereign I 
reason, are but the automatons part of man- | 
kind, rather lived than hvmg, or at least un- i 
derlivinsr themselves. 

XXV. Let not fortune, which hath no 1 
name in Scripture, have any in thy divinity. ,| 
Let Providence, not chance, have the honour ! 
of thy acknowledgments, and be thy (Edipus in li 
contingencies. Mark well the paths and wind- 
ing ways thereof; but be not too wise in the 
construction, or sudden in the application. The 
hand of • Providence writes often by abbrevia- ■ 
tures, hieroglyphics, or short characters, wdiich, 
Dan. V, like the Laconism on the wall, are not to be » 
made out but by a hint or key from that Spirit J 
which indited them. Leave future occurrences jj 
to their uncertainties, think that which is pres-| 
ent thine own : and since it is easier to foretell j 
an eclipse than a foul day at some distance, look 
for little regular below. Attend with patience 
the uncertainty of things, and what lieth jet 
unexerted in the chaos of futurity. The uncer- \ 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 207 

tainty and ignorance of things to come, makes 
tlie world new unto us by unexpected emergen- 
cies ; whereby we pass not our days in the trite 
road of affairs affording no novity ; for the nov- 
ehzing spirit of man hves by variety, and the 
new faces of things. 

XXVI. Though a contented mind enlargeth 
the dimension of httle things ; and unto some it 
is weahh enough not to be poor ; and others are 
well content if they be but rich enough to be 
honest, and to give every man his due ; yet fall 
not into that obsolete affectation of bravery, to 
throw away thy money, and to reject all hon- 
ours or honourable stations in this courtly and 
splendid world. Old generosity is superannu- 
ated, and such contempt of the world out of 
date. No man is now like to refuse the favour 
of great ones, or be content to say unto princes, 
Stand out of my sun. And if there be any of 
such antiquated resolutions, they are not like to 
be tempted out of them by great ones : and 't is 
fair if they escape the name of hypochondriacs 
from the genius of latter times ; unto whom 
contempt of the world is the most contemptible 
opinion , and to be able, hke Bias, to carry all 
they have about them, were to be the eighth 
wise man. However, the old tetric philoso- 
phers looked always with indignation upon such 
a face of things ; and, observing the unnatural 



208 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

current of riches, power, and honour in the 
world, and withal the imperfection and demerit 
of persons often advanced unto them, were 
tempted unto angry opinions, that affairs were 
ordered more by stars than reason, and that 
things went on rather by lottery than election. 
XXVII. If thy vessel be but small in the 
ocean of this world, if meanness of possessions 
be thy allotment upon earth, forget not those 
virtues Avhich the great Disposer of all bids thee 
to entertain from thy quality and condition ; 
that is, submission, humihty, content of mind, 
and industry. Content may dwell in all sta- 
tions. To be low, but above contempt, may be 
high enough to be happy. But many of low 
degree may be higher than computed, and some 
cubits above the common commensuration ; for 
in all states virtue gives qualifications and allow- 
ances, which make out defects. Rough dia- 
monds are sometimes mistaken for pebbles ; and 
meanness may be rich in accomplishments, 
which riches in vain desire. If our merits be 
above our stations, if our intrinsical value be 
greater than what we go for, or our value than 
our valuation, and if we stand higher in God's 
than in the censor's book,* it may make some 
equitable balance in the inequalities of this 

* Censor's booh, in which the name and estate of eveiy Roman 
citizen was registered. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 209 

world, and there may be no such vast chasm or 
gulf between disparities as common measures 
determine. The Divine eye looks upon high 
( and low differently from that of man. They 
who seem to stand upon Olympus, and high 
mounted unto our eyes, may be but in the val- 
leys and low ground unto his ; for he looks 
upon those as highest who nearest approach his 
divinity, and upon those as lowest who are 
farthest from it. 

XXYIII. When thou lookest upon the im- 
perfections of others, allow one eye for what is 
laudable in them, and the balance they have 
from some excellency, which may render them 
considerable, While we look with fear or 
hatred upon the teeth of the viper, we may 
behold his eye with love. In venomous na- cf. Rei. 
tures something may be amiable : poisons afford 2, 
anti-poisons : nothing is totally, or altogether 
uselessly bad. Notable virtues are sometimes 
dashed with notorious vices, and in some vicious 
tempers have been found illustrious acts of vir- 
tue ; which makes such observable worth in 
some actions of King Demetrius, Antonius, and 
Ahab, as are not to be found in the same kind 
in Aristides, Numa, or David. Constancy, 
generosity, clemency, and liberality have been 
highly conspicuous in some persons not marked 
out in other concerns for example or imitation. 
14 



Med. Pt. 



210 CHRISTIAN MORALS, 

But since goodness is exemplary in all, if others 
have not our virtues, let us not be wanting in 
theirs ; nor, scorning them for their vices where- 
of we are free, be condemned by their virtues 
wherein we are deficient. There is dross, alloy, 
and embasement in all human tempers ; and he 
flieth without w^ngs, who thinks to find ophir or 
pure metal in any. For perfection is not, like 
light, centred in any one body ; but, like the 
dispersed seminalities of vegetables at the crea- 
tion, scattered through the whole mass of the 
earth, no place producing all, and almost all 
some. So that 't is Avell, if a perfect man can 
be made out of many men, and, to the perfect 
eye of God, even out of mankind. Time, 
which perfects some things, imperfects also oth- 
ers. Could we intimately apprehend the ide- 
ated man, and as he stood in the intellect of 
God upon the first exertion by creation, we 
might more narrowly comprehend our present 
degeneration, and how widely we are fallen 
from the pure exemplar and idea of our nature : 
for after this corruptive elongation from a primi- 
tiA^e and pure creation, we are almost lost in 
degeneration ; and Adam hath not only fallen 
from his Creator, but we ourselves from Adam, 
our Tycho and primary generator. 

XXIX. ; Quarrel not rashly with adversities 
not yet understood, and overlook not the mer- 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 211 

cies often bound up in them; for we consider 
not sufficiently the good of evils, nor fairly 
compute the mercies of Providence in things 
afflictive at first hand. The famous Andreas 
Doria being invited to a feast by Aloysio Fieschi 
with design to kill him, just the night before 
fell mercifully into a fit of the gout, and so 
escaped that mischief. When Cato intended to 
kill himself, from a blow which he gave his 
servant, who would not reach his sword unto 
him, his hand so swelled that he had much ado 
to effect his design. Hereby any one but a re- 
solved Stoic might have taken a fair hint of 
consideration, and that some merciful genius 
would have contrived his preservation. To be 
sagacious in such intercurrences is not super- 
stition, but wary and pious discretion; and to 
contemn such hints were to be deaf unto the 
speaking hand of God, wherein Socrates and 
Cardan would hardly have been mistaken. 

XXX. Break not open the gate of destruc- 
tion, and make no haste or bustle unto ruin. 
Post not heedlessly on unto the non ultra of 
folly, or precipice of perdition. Let vicious 
ways have their tropics and deflexions, and 
swim in the waters of sin but as in the Asphal- 
tic lake, though smeared and defiled, not to 
sink to the bottom. If thou hast dipped thy 
foot in the brink, yet venture not over Rubi- 



212 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 



there is no regression. In the vicious ways i 
of the world it mercifully fulleth out that we | 
become not extempore wicked, but it taketh 
some time and pains to undo ourselves. We j 
Iliad A. fall not from virtue, like Vulcan from heaven, | 
in a day. Bad dispositions required some time,) > 
to grow into bad habits ; bad habits must under- )\ 
mine good, and often repeated acts make us- 
habitually evil ; so that by gi'adual deprava- ' 
tions, and while we are but staggeringly evil, /^ 
we are not left without parentheses of consider- 
ations, thouo-htful. rebukes, and merciful inter- 
ventions to recall us unto ourselves. f For the ! 
wisdom of God hath methodized the course of ^| 
things unto the best advantage of goodness, and''| 
thinking considerators overlook not the tract v 
thereof. | 

XXXI. Since men and women have their ' 
proper virtues and vices, and even twins of j 
different sexes have not only distinct coverings : 
in the womb, but differing qualities and virtuous 
habits after, transplace not their, proprieties, ; 
and confound not their distinctions.,-^ Let mas- 

* The river, by crossing which, CsBsar declared war against \ 
the Senate. Sueton. Jul. Cass. 32. Lucan. Phars. i. 184. 
t " Shame leaves us by degrees, not at first coming; 
For nature checks a new offence with loathing. 
But use of sin doth make it seem as nothing." 

Daniell. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 213 

cullne and feminine accomplishments sliine in 
their proper orbs, and adorn their respective 
subjects. However, unite not the vices of both 
sexes in one ; be not monstrous in iniquity, nor 
hermaphroditically vicious. 

XXXII. If generous honesty, valour, and 
plain dealing be the cognizance of thy family, 
or characteristic of thy country, hold fast such 
inclinations sucked in with thy first breath, and 
which lay in the cradle Avith thee. Fall not 
into transforming degenerations, which under 
the old name create a new nation. Be not an 

alien in thine own nation : bring; not Orontes J«v. Sat. 

■■■ CI 

into Tiber ; learn the virtu.es, not the vices, of 
thy foreign neighbours, and make thy imitation 
by discretion, not contagion. Feel something 
of thyself in the noble acts of thy ancestors, 
and find in thine own genius that of thy pre- 
decessors. Rest not under the expired merits 
of others, sliine by those of thine own. Flame 
not like the central fire which enlighteneth no 
eyes, which no man seeth, and most men think 
there is no such thing to be seen. Add one 
ray unto the common lustre ; add not only to 
the number, but the note of thy generation ; 
and prove not a cloud, but an asterisk in thy 
region, 

XXXIII. Since thou hast an alarum in thy 
breast, which tells thee thou hast a living spirit 



1 

214 CHRISTIAN MORALS. | 

in tliee above two thousand times in an hour, \ 
dull not away thy days in slothful supinity and \ 
the tediousness of doing notliing. To strenu- ! 
ous minds there is an inquietude in overquiet- \ 
ness, and no laboriousness in labour ; and to : 
tread a mile after the slow pace of a snail, or ! 
the heavy measures of the lazy of Brazilia, were i 
a most tiring penance, and worse than a race of j 
some furlongs at the Olympics. The rapid ■ 
courses of the heavenly bodies are rather imi- j 
table by our thoughts, than our corporeal mo- ■ 
tions : yet the solemn motions of our lives '■ 
amount unto a greater measure than is com- 
monly apprehended. Some few men have sur- '■[ 
rounded the globe of the earth ; yet many in | 
the set locomotions and movements of their 
days have measured the circuit of it, and 
twenty thousand miles have been exceeded by 
them. Move circumspectly, not meticulously, 
and rather careflilly solicitous than anxiously 
Prov. xxii. solicitudiuous. Think not there is a lion in the 
way, nor walk with leaden sandals in the paths 
of goodness ; but in all virtuous motions let 
prudence determine thy measures. Strive not 
to run, like Hercules, a furlong in a breath: 
festination may prove precipitation; deliberat- 
ing delay may be wise cunctation, and slowness 
no slothfulness. 

XXXIV. Since virtuous actions have their 



13. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 215 

own trumpets, and, without any noise from thy- 
self, will have their resound abroad, busy not Ps. cvUi. i. 
thy best member in the encomium of thyself. 
Praise is a debt we owe unto the virtues of 
others, and due unto our own from all, whom 
malice hath not made mutes, or envy struck 
dumb. Fall not, however, into the common 
prevaricating way of self-commendation and 
boasting, by denoting the imperfections of oth- Dante, 
ers. He who discommendeth others, obliquely 212!^^^" 
commendeth himself. He who whispers their 
infirmities, proclaims his own exemption from 
them ; and consequently says, I am not as this st. Luke 
publican, or hie niger^ whom I talk of. Open Hor.sat. i. 
ostentation and loud vainglory is more tolera- *^•^^• 
ble than this obliquity, as but containing some 
froth, no ink ; as but consisting of a personal 
piece of folly, nor complicated with uncharita- 
bleness. Superfluously we seek a precarious 
applause abroad; every good man hath his 
plaudite within himself; and though his tongue 
be silent, is not without loud cymbals in his 
breast. Conscience will become his panegyrist, 
and never forget to crown and extol him unto 
himself. 

XXXV. Bless not thyself only that thou 
wert born in Athens ; but, among thy multi- 
plied acknowledgments, lift up one hand unto 
heaven, that thou wert born of honest parents ; 



216 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 



I 



that modesty, humility, patience, and veracity ! 
lay in the same egg, and came into the world \ 
with thee. From such foundations thou may- 
est be happy in a virtuous precocity, and make j 
an early and long walk in goodness ; so mayest j 
thou more naturally feel the contrariety of vice 
unto nature, and resist some by the antidote of I 
thy temper. As charity covers, so modesty | 
preventeth, a multitude of sins ; withholding \ 
from noonday vices, and brazen-browed iniqui- | 
ties, from sinning on the house-top, and paint- ] 
ing our follies with the rays of the sun. Where < 
this virtue reigneth, though vice may show its \ 
head, it cannot be in its glory. Where shame ( 
of sin sets, look not for virtue to arise ; for ^ 
when modesty taketh wing, Astraea * goes soon ^ 
(after. 

XXXVI. The heroical vein of mankind runs ; 
much in the soldiery and courageous part of the i 
world, and m that form we oftenest find men | 
above men. History is full of the gallantry i 
of that tribe ; and when we read their notable 
acts, we easily find what a difference there is 
between a life in Plutarch and in Laertius. 
Where true fortitude dwells, loyalty, bounty, 
friendship, and fidelity may be found. A man 
may confide in persons constituted for noble 

* Astrcea, goddess of Justice, and consequently of all Virtue. 
Ovid. Met. i. 150. Faeiie Queene, v. i. 11. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 217 

ends, wlio dare do and suffer, and who have a Like Mu- 
hand to burn for their country and their friend. J";^^ '^'^" 
Small and creeping things are the product of ^i'^- "• ^ 
petty souls. He is like to be mistaken, who 
makes choice of a covetous man for a friend, or 
relieth upon the reed of narrow and poltroon 
friendship. Pitiful things are only to be found 
in the cottages of such breasts ; but bright 
thoughts, clear deeds, constancy, fidelity, 
bounty, and generous honesty, are the gems 
of noble minds ; wherein, to derogate from 
none, the true heroic English gentleman hath 
no peer. 




Part II. 




satiety. 



UNISH not thyself with pleasure ; \ 
glut not thy sense with palative ; 
delights, nor revenge the contempt I 
^'^ of temperance by the penalty of 
Were there an age of delight or any ■ 
pleasure durable, who would not honour Volu- j 
pia ? but the race of delight is short, and pleas- \ 
ures have mutable faces. The pleasures of one '' 
age are not pleasures in another, and their lives j 
fall short of our own. Even in our sensual \ 
days, the strength of delight is in its seldom- : 
ness or rarity, and sting in its satiety ; medioc- i 
rity is its hfe, and immoderacy its confusion. , 
The luxurious emperors of old inconsiderately 
satiated themselves with the dainties of sea and : 
land, till, wearied through all varieties, their ; 
refections became a study unto them, and they j 
were fain to feed by invention : novices in true i 
epicurism ! which by mediocrity, paucity, quick i 
and healthful appetite, makes delights smartly i 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 219 

acceptable; whereby Epicurus himself found 
Jupiter^ § brain* m a piece of Cytheridian 
cheese, and the tono;ues of nioi;htino;ales in a 
dish of onions. Hereby healthful and tem- 
perate poverty hath the start of nauseating 
luxury; unto whose clear and naked appetite 
every meal is a feast, and in one single dish the 
first course of Metellus ; f who are cheaply hun-i 
gry, and never lose their hunger or advantage 
of a craving appetite, because obvious food con- 
tents it ; while Nero, half famished, could not 
feed upon a piece of bread, and, lingering after 
his snowed water, hardly got down an ordinary 
cup of calda.1^ By such circumscriptions of 
pleasure the contemned philosophers reserved 
unto themselves the secret of delight, which the 
helluo^s of those days lost in their exorbitances. 
In vain we study delight : it is at the command 
of every sober mind, and in every sense born 
with us : but nature, who teacheth us the rule 
of pleasure, instructeth also in the bounds 
thereof, and where its line expireth. And 
therefore, temperate minds, not pressing their 

* Cerebrum Jovis, for a delicious bit. 

t Metellus his riotous pontifical supper, the great variety 
whereat is to be seen in Macrobius. Satumal. iii. 13. 

J Calda, tepid water with which the ancients tempered their 
wine. " Fameque interim et siti interpellante, panem qieidem sor- 
didum oblatum adspernatus est, aquce aulem tepidce aliquantum bibit." 
— Sueton. Nero, 48. 



220 CHRISTIAN MORALS, , 

pleasures until the sting appeareth, enjoy tlieir \ 
contentations contentedly and without regret ; | 
and so escape the folly of excess, to be pleased ] 
unto displacency. j 

II. Bring candid eyes unto the perusal of: 
men's works, and let not Zoilism or detraction ; 
blast well-intended labours. He that endureth { 
no faults in men's writings must only read his ' 
own, wherein for the most part all appeareth , 
white. Quotation mistakes, inadvertency, ex- '', 
pedition, and human lapses, may make, not i 
only moles, but warts, in learned authors ; who \ 
notwithstanding, being judged by the capital i 
matter, admit not of disparagement. I should \ 
unwillingly affirm that Cicero was but slightly ; 
versed in Homer, because in his work De Gloria \ 
he ascribed those verses unto Ajax which were 
delivered by Hector. What if Plautus in the | 
account of Hercules mistaketh nativity for con- ] 
ception ? Who would have mean thoughts of ; 
Apollinaris Sidonius, who seems to mistake the 
river Tigris for Euphrates ; and though a good 
historian and learned bishop of Auvergne had 
the misfortune to be out in the story of David, 
making mention of him when the ark was sent 
1 Sam. Ti. back by the Philistines upon a cart, Avhich was 
before his time ? Though I have no great 
opinion of Machiavel's learning, yet I shall not 
presently say that he was but a novice in Ro- 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 221 

man history, because he was mistaken in placing 
Commoclus after the Emperor Severus. Capi- 
tal truths are to be narrowly eyed ; collateral 
lapses and circumstantial deliveries not to be too 
strictly sifted. And if the substantial subject 
be well forged out, we need not examine the 
sparks which irregularly fly from it. 

III. Let well-weighed considerations, not stiff 
and peremptory assumptions, guide thy discour- 
ses, pen, and actions. To begin or continue 
our works like Trismegistus of old, verum certe 
verum atque verissimum est, would sound arro- 
gantly unto present ears in this strict inquiring 
age ; wherein, for the most part, lorohably and 
perhaps will hardly serve to mollify the spirit 
of captious contradictors. If Cardan saith that 
a parrot is a beautiful bird, Scaliger will set his 
wits to work to prove it a deformed animal. 
The compage of all physical truths is not so 
closely jointed, but opposition may find intru- 
sion ; nor always so closely maintained, as not 
to suffer attrition. Many positions seem quod- 
libetically constituted, and like a Delphian blade 
will cut on both sides. Some truths seem al- 
most falsehoods, and some falsehoods almost 
truths ; wherein falsehood and truth seem almost 
equilibriously stated, and but a few grains of 
distinction to bear down the balance. Some 
have digged deep, yet glanced by the royal 



I 



222 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 



vein ; and a man may come unto the pericar- ^ 
dimn, but not the heart of truth. Besides, i 
many things are known, as some are seen, that j 
is, by parallaxis, or at some distance from their '' 
true and proper beings, the superficial regard] 
of things having a different aspect from their; 
true and central natures. And this moves so- \ 
ber pens unto suspensory and timorous asser- j 
tions, nor presently to obtrude them as Sibyls' \ 
leaves ; which after considerations may find to i 
be but folious appearances, and not the central { 
and vital interiors of truth. 

IV. Value the judicious, and let not mere 
acquests in minor parts of learning gain thy 
pre-existimation. It is an unjust way of com- 
pute, to magnify a weak head for some Latin 
abilities ; and to undervalue a solid judgment, | 
because he knows not the genealogy of Hector. 
When that notable king of France * would have 
his son to know but one sentence in Latin, had 
it been a good one, perhaps it had been enough. 
Natural parts and good judgments rule the \ 
world. States are not governed by ergotisms. Ii 
(^Many have ruled well, who could not, perhaps, \ 
define a Commonwealth ; and they who mider- |i 
stand not the globe of the earth, command a f, 
great part of it. Where natural logic prevails I 
not, artificial too often faileth. ^here nature \'\ 

* Louis XI. " Qui nescit dissimulare nescit regnare.''^ \ I 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 223 

fills the sails, the vessel goes smoothly on ; and 
when judgment is the pilot, the insurance need 
not be high. When industry builds upon na- 
ture, we may expect pyramids: where that 
foundation is wanting, the structure must be 
low. They do most by books, who could do 
much without them ; and he that chiefly owes 
liimself unto himself, is the substantial man. 

V. Let thy studies be free as thy thoughts 
and contemplations : but fly not only upon the 
wings of imagination ; join sense unto reason, 
and experiment unto speculation, and so give 
hfe unto embryon truths and verities yet in 
their chaos. There is nothing more acceptable 
unto the ingenious world, than this noble eluc- 
tation of truth ; wherein, against the tenacity 
of prejudice and prescription, this century now 
prevaileth. What libraries of new volumes af- 
ter-times will behold, and in what a new world 
of knowledge the eyes of our posterity may be 
happy, a few ages may joyfully declare ; and 
is but a cold thought unto those, who cannot 
hope to behold this exantlation of truth, or that 
obscured virgin half out of the pit : which might 
make some content with a commutation of the 
time of their lives, and to commend the fancy 
of the Pythagorean metempsychosis : whereby 
they might hope to enjoy this happiness in 
their third or fourth selves, and behold that 



224 CHRISTIAN MORALS. j 

in Pythagoras, wliicli tliey now but foresee in i 
Eupliorbus.* The world, which took but six j 
days to make, is Hke to take six thousand to j 
make out ; meanwhile old truths voted down \ 
begin to resume their places, and new ones ^ 
arise upon us ; wherein there is no comfort in .; 
the happiness of Tully's Elysium,f or any satis- 'j 
faction from the ghosts of the ancients, who| 
knew so little of what is now well known. 1 
Men disparage not antiquity, who prudently \ 
exalt new inquiries, and make not them the \ 
judges of truth, who were but fellow-inquirers j 
of it. Who can but magnify the endeavours J 
of Aristotle, and the noble start which learn- 
ing had under him ; or less than pity the slen- 
der progression made upon such advantages ; 
while many centuries were lost in repetitions 
and transcriptions sealing up the book of knowl- 
edge ? And therefore, rather than to swell the 
leaves of learning by fruitless repetitions, to 
sing the same song in all ages, nor adventure 
at essays beyond the attempt of others, many 
would be content that some would write like 
Helmont or Paracelsus ; and be willing to en- 

* Pythagoras, in accordance with his doctrine of metempsy- 
chosis, or more correctly metensomatosis, declared that he him- 
self had been present at the siege of Troy as Euphorhus. Ovid, 
llet. XV. 160. Hor. Od. I. xxviii. 11. 

t In which Socrates comforted himself that he should converse 
with the worthies of old. Tusc. Disp. i. xli. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 225 

dure the monstrosity of some opinions for di- 
vers singular notions requiting such aberrations. 
VI. Despise not the obhquities of younger 
ways, nor despair of better things whereof there 
is yet no prospect. Who would imagine that 
Diogenes, who in his younger days was a fal- 
sifier of money, should, in the after course of 
his life, be so great a contemner of metal ? 
Some negroes, who believe the resurrection, 
think that they shall rise white. Even in this 
life regeneration may imitate resurrection ; our 
black and vicious tinctures may wear off, and 
goodness clothe us with candor. Good admo- 
nitions knock not always in vain. There will 
be signal examples of God's mercy, and the 
angels must not want their charitable rejoices st. luico 

. . . XV. 10. 

for the conversion of lost sinners. Figures of 
most angles do nearest approach unto circles, 
which have no angles at all. Some may be 
near unto goodness who are conceived far from 
it ; and many things happen, not likely to ensue 
from any promises of antecedencies. Culpable 
beginnings have found commendable conclusions, 
and infamous courses pious retractations. De- 
testable sinners have proved exemplary converts 
on earth, and may be glorious in the apartment 
of Mary Magdalen in heaven. (Men are not 
the same through all divisions of their ages : 
time, experience, self-reflections, and God's mer- 
15 



23-33. 



226 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

cies, make in some well-tempered minds a kind 
of translation before death, and men to differ 
from themselves as well as from other persons. 
Hereof the old world afforded many examples 
to the infamy of latter ages, wherein men too 
often live by the rule of their inclinations ; so 
that, without any astral prediction, the first day 
gives the last : men are commonly as they were ; 
or rather, as bad dispositions run into worser 
habits, the evening doth not crown, but sourly 
conclude, the day. 

VII. (if the Almighty will not spare us ac- 
Gcn. xviii. cording to his merciful capitulation at Sodom ; 
if his goodness please not to pass over a great 
deal of bad for a small pittance of good, or to 
look upon us in the lump ; there is slender hope 
for mercy, or sound presumption of fulfilling 
half his will, either in persons or nations : they 
who excel in some virtues being so often de- 
fective in others ; few men driving at the extent 
and amplitude of goodness, but computing them- 
selves by their best parts, and others by their 
worst, are content to rest in those virtues which 
others commonly want. Which makes this spec- 
kled face of honesty in the world ; and which 
was the imperfection of the old philosophers and 
great pretenders unto virtue ; who well declin- 
ing the gaping vices of intemperance, inconti- 
nency, violence, and oppression, were yet blind- 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 227 

\j peccant in iniquities of closer faces ; were 
envious, malicious, contemners, scoffers, cen- 
surers, and stuffed with vizard vices, no less 
depraving the ethereal particle and diviner por- 
tion of man. For envy, malice, hatred, are 
the qualities of Satan, close and dark like him- 
self; and where such brands smoke, the soul 
cannot be white. Vice may be had at all prices; 
expensive and costly iniquities which make the 
noise, cannot be every man's sins ; but the soul 
may be foully inquinated at a very low rate, 
and a man may be cheaply vicious to the per- 
dition of himself. 

VIII. Opinion rides upon the neck of reason ; 
and men are happy, wise, or learned, according 
as that empress shall set them down in the 
register of reputation. However, weigh not 
thyself in the scales of thy own opinion, but 
let the judgment of the judicious be the stand- 
ard of thy merit. Self-estimation is a flatterer 
too readily entitling us unto knowledge and 
abilities, which others solicitously labour after, 
and doubtfully think they attain. Surely, such 
confident tempers do pass their days in best 
tranquillity ; who, resting in the opinion of their 
own abilities, are happily gulled by such con- 
tentation ; wherein pride, self-conceit, confi- 
dence, and 'opiniatrity will hardly suffer any 
to complain of imperfection. To think them- 



1 

228 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

selves in the right, or all that right, or only ' 
that, which they do or think, is a fallacy of j 
high content ; though others laugh in their " 
sleeves, and look upon them as in a deluded i 
state of judgment: wherein, notwithstanding, : 
it were but a civil piece of complacency to suffer j 
them to sleep who would not wake, to let them j 
rest in their securities, nor by dissent or oppo- 
sition to staoraer their contentments. 

IX. Since the brow speaks often true, since 
eyes and noses have tongues, and the counte- j 
nance proclaims the heart and inclinations, let I 
observation so far instruct thee in physiognomi- " 
cal lines, as to be some rule for thy distinction, i 
and guide for thy affection unto such as look ' 
most like men. Mankind, methinks, is compre- i 
bended in a few faces, if we exclude all visages 
which any way participate of symmetries and ' 
schemes of look common unto other animals. 
(For as though man were the extract of the i 
w^orld, in whom all were in coagulato, which in ! 
then' forms were in soluto and at extension ; we i 
often observe that men do most act those crea- j 
lures, whose constitution, parts, and complexion ! 
do most predominate in their mixtures. IThis 
is a corner-stone in physiognomy, and holds 
some truth not only in particular persons, but : 
also in whole nations. There are, therefore, i 
provincial faces, national lips and noses, which i 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 229 

testify not only the natures of those countries, 
but of those which have them elsewhere. Thus 
we may make England the whole earth, divid- 
ing it not only into Europe, Asia, Africa, but 
the particvilar regions thereof ; and may in some 
latitude affirm, that there are Egyptians, Scy- 
thians, Indians among us, who, though born in 
England, yet carry the faces and air of those 
countries, and are also agreeable and corre- 
spondent unto their natures. Faces look uni- 
formly unto our eyes : how they appear unto 
some animals of a more piercing or differing 
sight, who are able to discover the inequalities, 
rubs and hairiness of the skin, is not without 
good doubt ; and, therefore, in reference unto 
man, Cupid is said to be blind. Affection 
should not be too sharp-eyed, and love is not 
to be made by magnifying-glasses. If things 
were seen as they truly are, the beauty of bod- 
ies would be much abridged. And, therefore, 
the Wise Contriver hath drawn the pictures 
and outsides of things softly and amiably unto 
the natural edge of our eyes, not leaving them 
able to discover those uncomely asperities, which 
make oyster-shells in good faces, and hedgehogs 
even in Venus 's moles. 

X. Court not felicity too far, and weary not 
the favourable hand of fortune. Glorious ac- 
tions have their times, extent, and non ultra's. 



230 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

To put no end unto attempts were to make pre- 
scription of successes, and to bespeak unliappi- 
Aii 's TTeu ness at the last ; for the line of our lives is 
Weu, iv. 3. drawn with white and black vicissitudes, where- 
in the extremes hold seldom one complexion. 
That Pompey should obtain the surname of 
Great at twenty-five years ; that men in their 
young and active days should be fortunate and 
perform notable things ; is no observation of 
deep wonder, they having the strength of their 
fates before them, nor yet acted their parts in 
the world for which they were brought into it ; 
whereas men of years, matured for counsels and 
designs, seem to be beyond the vigour of their 
active fortunes, and high exploits of life, provi- 
dentially ordained unto ages best agreeable unto 
them. And, therefore, many brave men, find- 
mz their fortune grow faint, and feelinor its 
declination, have timely withdrawn themselves 
from great attempts, and so escaped the ends of 
mighty men, disproportionate to their begin- 
nings. But magnanimous thoughts have so 
dimmed the eyes of many, that forgetting the 
Seethe vcry esscucc of fortmie, and the vicissitude of 
Poi^^crates go<^^ ^^^ ^"^^ t^^y apprehend no bottom in 
and.Ama- felicity, and so have been still tempted on unto 
ui.'40 seq. i^^g^^ty actious, rcscrvcd for their destructions. 
/For fortune lays the plot of our adversities in 
the foundation of our felicities, blessing us in 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 231 

the first quadrate, to blast us more sharply in 
the last. And since in the hio-hest felicities 
there lieth a capacity of the lowest miseries, 
she hath this advantage from our happiness to 
make us truly miserable ; for to become acutely 
miserable we are to be first happy. Affliction 
smarts most in the most happy state, as having 
somewhat in it of Belisarius at beggar's bush, 
or Bajazet in the grate. And this the fallen 
angels severely understand, who having acted 
their first part in Heaven, are made sharply 
miserable by transition, and more afflictively 
feel the contrary state of Hell. 

XI. Carry no careless eye upon the unex- 
pected scenes of things, but ponder the acts of 
Providence in the public ends of great and 
notable men, set out unto the view of all for 
no common memorandums. The tramcal exits 
and unexpected periods of some eminent per- 
sons cannot but amuse considerate observators ; 
wherein, notwithstanding, most men seem to 
see by extramission, without reception or self- 
reflection, and conceive themselves uncon- 
cerned by the fallacy of their own exemption ; 
whereas, the mercy of God hath singled out 
but few to be the signals of his justice, leaving 
the generality of mankind to the psedagogy of 
example. But the inadvertency of our natures 
not well apprehending this favourable method 



1 Cor. xr. 
43. 



232 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

and merciful decimation, and tliat He slioweth 
in some wliat others also deserve ; they enter- 
tain no sense of liis hand beyond the stroke of 
themselves. Whereupon the whole becomes 
necessarily punished, and the contracted hand 
of God extended unto universal judgments ; 
from whence, nevertheless, the stupidity of our 
tempers receives but faint impressions, and in 
the most tragical state of times holds but starts 
of good motions. So that to continue us in 
goodness there must be iterated returns of mis- 
ery, and a circulation in affliction is necessary. 
And since we cannot be wise by warnings ; 
since plagues are insignificant, except we be 
personally plagued ; since also we cannot be 
punished unto amendment by proxy or commu- 
tation, nor by vicinity, but contaction ; there is 
an unhappy necessity that we must smart in 
our own skins, and the provoked arm of the 
Almighty must fall upon ourselves. The capi- 
tal sufferings of others are rather our monitions 
than acquitments. There is but One who died 
salvifically for us, and able to say unto death, 
Hitherto shalt thou go, and no farther; only 
one enlivening death, wdiich makes gardens of 
graves, and that which was sowed in corruption 
to arise and flourish in glory : when death itself 
shall die, and living shall have no period ; when 
the damned shall mourn at the funeral of death ; 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 233 

when life, not death, shall be the wages of sin : Rom. tL 
when the second death shall prove a miserable |^J^ ^j 
life, and destruction shall be courted. 15-17. 

XII. /Although their thoughts may seem too 
severe, who think that few ill-natured men go to 
heaven ; yet it may be acknowledged that good- 
natured persons are best founded for that place, 
who enter the world with good dispositions 
and natural graces, more ready to be advanced 
by impressions from above, and Christianized 
unto pieties, who carry about them plain and 
downright dealing minds, humility, mercy, char- 
ity, and virtues acceptable unto God and man. 
But whatever success they may have as to 
heaven, they are the acceptable men on earth, 
and happy is he who hath his quiver full 
of them for his friends. These are not the 
dens wherein falsehood lurks, and hypocrisy 
hides its head, wherein frowardness makes its 
nest, or where malice, hard-heartedness, and 
oppression love to dwell ; not those by whom 
the poor get little, and the rich some time lose 
all ; men, not of retracted looks, but who carry 
their hearts in their faces, and need not to be 
looked upon with perspectives ; not sordidly or 
mischievously ingrateful ; who cannot learn to 
ride upon the neck of the afflicted, nor load the 
heavy laden, but who keep the temple of Janus 
shut by peaceable and quiet tempers ; who make 



234 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

not only the best friends, but the best enemies, 
as easier to forgive than offend, and ready to 
pass by the second offence before they avenge 
the first ; who make natural Royalists, obedient 
Subjects, kind and merciful Princes, verified 
in our own, one of the best-natured Kings of 
this throne. Of the old Roman Emperors the 
best were the best-natured, though they made 
but a small number, and might be writ in a 
ring. Many of the rest were as bad men as 
princes ; humourists, rather than of good hu- 
mours ; and of good natural parts, rather than 
of good natures, which did but arm their bad 
inclinations, and make them wittily wicked. 

XIII. With what shift and pains we come 
into the world we remember not, but 't is com- 
monly found no easy matter to get out of it. 
Many have studied to exasperate the ways of 
death, but fewer hours have been spent to 
soften that necessity. That the smoothest way 
unto the grave is made by bleeding, as common 
opinion presumeth, beside the sick and fainting 
languors which accompany that effusion, the 
experiment in Lucan and Seneca will make us 
doubt: under which the noble Stoic so deeply 
laboured, that, to conceal his affliction, he was 
fain to retire from the sight of his wife, and 
not ashamed to implore the merciful hand of 
his physician to shorten his misery therein. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 235 

Ovid, the old heroes, and the Stoics, who were ovid.Trist 
so afraid of drowning, as dreading thereby the * "' ' " 
extinction of their soul, which they conceived 
to be a fire, stood probably in fear of an easier 
way of death ; wherein the water, entering the 
possessions of air, makes a temperate suffocation, 
and kills, as it were, without a fever. Surely " 
many who have had the spirit to destroy them- 
selves, have not been ingenious in the contri- 
vance thereof. 'Twas a dull way practised by 
Themistocles, to overwhelm himself with bull's ^'^^^ 
blood, who being an Athenian, might have held 
an easier theory of death from the state potion 
of his country ; from which Socrates, in Plato, 
seemed not to suffer much more than from the 
fit of an ague. Cato is much to be pitied, who 
mangled himself with poniards ; and Hannibal 
seems more subtle, who carried his delivery, 
^ not in the point, but the pummel of his sword.* 
The Egyptians were mercifal contrivers, who 
destroyed their malefactors by asps, charming 
their senses into an invincible sleep, and killing 
as it were with Hermes his rod. The Turkish 
emperor, odious for other cruelty, was herein 
a remarkable master of mercy, killing his fa- 
vourite in his sleep, and sending him from the 

* Wherein he is said to have carried something, whereby upon 
a struggle or despair he might deliver himself from all misfor- 
tunes. Juvenal says it was carried in a ring. Sat. x. 165. 



236 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

shade into the house of darkness. He who had 
been thus destroyed would hardly have bled 
at the presence of his destroyer : when men 
are already dead by metaphor, and pass but 
from one sleep unto another, wanting herein 
the eminent part of severity to feel themselves 
to die ; and escaping the sharpest attendant of 
death, the lively apprehension thereof. But to 
learn to die is better than to study the ways 
of dying. Death will find some ways to untie 
or cut the most Gordian knots of life, and make 
men's miseries as mortal as themselves ; where- 
as evil spirits, as undying substances, are insep- 
arable from their calamities ; and, therefore, 
they everlastingly struggle under their angus- 
tias, and, bound up with immortality, can never 
get out of themselves. 




Part III. 




T is hard to find a whole age to imi- 
tate, or what century to propose for 
example. Some have been far more 
approvable than others ; but virtue 
and vice, panegyrics and satires, scatteringly 
to be found in all. History sets down not only 
things laudable, but abominable ; things which 
should never have been, or never have been 
known ; so that noble patterns must be fetched 
here and there from single persons, rather than 
whole nations ; and from whole nations rather 
than any one. The world was early bad, and 
the first sin the most deplorable of any. The 
younger world afforded the oldest men, and 
perhaps the best and the worst, when length of 
days made virtuous habits heroical and immov- 
able ; vicious, inveterate and irreclaimable. 
And since 't is said that the imaginations of Gen. 
their hearts were evil, only evil, and continu- 



vi. 5 



238 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

ally evil ; it may be feared that their sins held 
pace with their lives, and their longevity swell- 
ing their impieties, the longanimity of God 
would no lono;er endure such vivacious abomi- 
nations. Their impieties were surely of a deep 
dye, which required the whole Element of 
Water to wash them away, and overwhelmed 
their memories with themselves ; and so shut 
up the first windows of Time, leaving no his- 
tories of those longevous generations, when 
men might have been properly historians, when 
Adam mio;ht have read lono; lectures unto Me- 
thuselah, and Methuselah unto Noah. For had 
we been happy in just historical accounts of 
that unparalleled world, we might have been 
acquainted with wonders, and have understood 
not a little of the acts and undertakings of 
Moses his mighty men, and men of renown of 
old, which might have enlarged our thoughts, 
and made the world older unto us. For the 
unknown part of time shortens the estimation, 
if not the compute of it. What hath escaped 
our knowledge, falls not under our considera- 
tion ; and what is and will be latent, is little 
better than non-existent. 

II. Some things are dictated for our instruc- 
tion, some acted for our imitation ; wherein it is 
best to ascend unto the highest conformity, and 
to the honour of the exemplar. He honours 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 239 

God, who imitates liim;* for what we virtu- 
ously imitate we approve and admire ; and since 
we dehght not to imitate inferiors, we aggran- 
dize and magnify those we imitate ; since also 
we are most apt to imitate those we love, we 
testify our affection in our imitation of the inim- 
itable. To affect to be like, may be no imita- 
tion ; to act, and not to be what we pretend to 
imitate, is but a mimical conformation, and car- 
rieth no virtue in it. Lucifer imitated not God, 
when he said he would be like the Highest ; 
and he imitated not Jupiter, who counterfeited Saimnneus. 

. Vir?. iEn. 

thunder. Where imitation can go no farther, vi.5S5. 
let admiration step on, whereof there is no end 
in the wisest form of men. Even angels and 
spirits have enough to admire in their sublimer 
natures ; admiration being the act of the crea- 
ture, and not of God, who doth not admire 
himself. Created natures allow of swelling 
hyperboles ; nothing can be said hyperbolically 
of God, nor will his attributes admit of expres- 
sions above then' own exuperances. Trisme- 



* " He prayeth well, who loveth well 
Both man and bird and beast. 
He prayeth best, who loveth best 
All things both great and small ; 
For the dear God who loveth us, 
He made and loveth all." 

Coleridge. 
Cf. St. Matt. vi. 12, 14, 15. 



240 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

gistus liis circle, whose centre is everywhere 
and circumference nowhere, was no hyperbole. 
Words cannot exceed, where they cannot ex- 
press enough. Even the most winged thoughts 
fall at the setting out, and reach not the portal 
of Divinity. 

III. In bivious theorems, and Janus-faced 
doctrines, let virtuous considerations state the 
determination. Look upon opinions as thou 
dost upon the moon, and choose not the dark 
hemisphere for thy contemplation. Embrace 
not the opacous and blind side of opinions, but 
that which looks most luciferously or influen- 
tially unto goodness. It is better to think that 
there are Guardian Spirits, than that there are 
no spirits to guard us ; that vicious persons are 
slaves, than that there is any servitude in vir- 
tue ; that times past have been better than 
times present, than that times were always 
bad ; and that to be men it sufficeth to be 
no better than men in all ages, and so promis- 
cuously to swim down the turbid stream, and 
make up the grand confusion. Sow not thy 
understanding with opinions, which make noth- 
ing of iniquities, and fallaciously extenuate trans- 
gressions. Look upon vices and vicious objects 
with hyperbolical eyes ; and rather enlarge their 
dimensions, that their unseen deformities may 
not escape thy sense, and their poisonous parts 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 241 

and stings may appear massj and monstrous 
unto thee : for the undiscerned particles and 
atoms of evil deceive us, and we are undone 
by the invisibles of seeming goodness. We are 
only deceived in what is not discerned, and to 
err is but to be blind or dim-sighted as to some 
perceptions. 

IV. To be honest in a right line, and virtu- Linea recta 
ous by epitome, be firm unto such principles ^^^^'^^""'^' 
of goodness as carry in them volumes of in- 
struction and may abridge thy labour. And 
since instructions are many, hold close unto 
those, whereon the rest depend ; so may we 
have all in a few, and the law and the prophets 
in a rule ; the Sacred Writ in stenography, and 
the Scripture in a nut-shell. To pursue the 
osseous and solid part of goodness, which gives 
stability and rectitude to all the rest ; to settle 
on fundamental virtues, and bid early defiance 
unto mother- vices, which carry in their bowels 
the seminals of other iniquities, makes a short 
cut in goodness, and strikes not off a head, but 
the whole neck of Hydra. For we are carried 
into the dark lake, like the Egyptian river into 
the sea, by seven principal ostiaries : the mother- 
sins of that number are the deadly engines of 
evil spirits that undo us, and even evil spirits 
themselves ; and he who is under the chains 
thereof is not without a possession. Mary Mag- 
16 



242 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

St. Luke dalene had more than seven devils, if these 
with their imps were in lier; and he who is 

viii. 30. thus possessed, may literally be named Legion. 
Where such plants grow and prosper, look for 
no champaign or region void of thorns ; but 
productions like the tree of Goa,* and forests 
of abomination. 

V. Guide not the hand of God, nor order 
the finger of the Almighty unto thy will and 
pleasure ; but sit quiet in the soft showers of 
Providence, and favourable distributions in this 
world, either to thyself or others. And since 
not only judgments have their errands, but 
mercies their commissions, snatch not at every 
favour, nor think thyself passed by if they fall 
upon thy neighbour. Rake not up envious 
displacences at things successful unto others, 
which the Wise Disposer of all things thinks not 
fit for thyself. Reconcile the events of things 
unto both beings, that is, of this world and the 
next ; so will there not seem so many riddles in 
Providence, nor various inequalities in the dis- 
pensation of things below. If thou dost not 
anoint thy face, yet put not on sackcloth at the 

Faerie fehcities of othcrs. Repinincr at the fjjood draws 

Queenei. ... . 

iv. 30. on rejoicing at the evils of others, and so falls into 

* Arbor Goa de Ruyz, or Ficus Indica, whose branches send 
down shoots which root in the ground, from whence there suc- 
cessively rise others, till one tree becomes a wood. Plin. H. N. 
xii. 5. Milton, P. L. ix. 1101. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 243 

that inhuman vice for which so few languages 
have a name. The blessed spirits above rejoice 
at our happiness below ; but to be glad at the 
evils of one another is beyond the malignity 
of hell, and falls not on evil spirits, who, though 
they rejoice at our unhappiness, take no pleas- 
ure at the afflictions of their own society or of 
their fellow natures. Degenerous heads ! who 
must be fain to learn from such examples, and 
to be taucrht from the School of Hell. 

VI. Grain not thy vicious stains, nor deepen 
those swart tinctures which temper, infirmity, 
or ill habits have set upon thee ; and fix not, by 
iterated depravations, what time might efface, or 
virtuous washes expunge. He who thus still ad- 
vanceth in iniquity, deepeneth his deformed hue, 
turns a shadow into night, and makes himself a 
negro in the black jaundice ; and so becomes one 
of those lost ones, the disproportionate pores of 
whose brains afford no entrance unto good mo- 
tions, but reflect and fi'ustrate all counsels, deaf 
unto the thunder of the laws, and rocks unto the 
cries of charitable commiserators. He who hath 
had the patience of Diogenes, to make orations 
mito statues, may more sensibly apprehend how 
all words fall to the ground, spent upon such a 
surd and earless generation of men, stupid unto 
all instruction, and rather requiring an exorcist 
than an orator for their conversion ! 



I 

244 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 1 

1 

VII. Burden not the back of Aries, Leo, or ; 

Taurus with thy faults ; nor make Saturn, Mars, ; 

or Venus guilty of thy follies. Think not to \ 

fasten thy imperfections on the stars, and so de- i 

spairingly conceive thyself under a fatality of 

being evil. Calculate thyself within ; seek not \ 

thyself in the moon, but in thine own orb or mi- \ 

crocosmical circumference. Let celestial aspects s 

admonish and advertise, not conclude and deter- j 

mine thy ways. For since good and bad stars ] 

moralize not our actions, and neither excuse or \ 

commend, acquit or condemn our good or bad \ 

deeds at the present or last bar ; since some \ 

are astrologically well disposed who are mor- | 

ally highly vicious ; not celestial figures, but vir- I 

tuous schemes, must denominate and state our 

Ps. cxivii. actions. If we rightly understood the names \ 

Is. xi. 2G. whereby God calleth the stars ; if we knew his \ 

cf. Job name for the Dog-star, or by what appellation j 

31,32. Jupiter, Mars, and Saturn obey his will; it \ 

might be a welcome accession unto astrology, | 

which speaks great things, and is fain to make : 

use of appellations from Greek and Barbaric i 

systems. Whatever influences, impulsions, or - 

inclinations there be from the lights above, it \ 

were a piece of wisdom to make one of those ' 

Sapiens do- y^i^Q men wlio overrulc their stars, and with \ 

astris. their own Militia contend with the Host of 

Heaven. Unto which attempt there want not j 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 245 

auxiliaries from the whole strength of morality, 
supplies from Christian ethics, influences also 
and illuminations from above, more powerful 
than the Lights of Heaven. 

VIII. Confound not the distinctions of thy 
life which nature hath divided ; that is, youth, 
adolescence, manhood, and old age : nor in 
these divided periods, wherein thou art in a 
manner four, conceive thyself but one. Let 
every division be happy in its proper virtues, 
nor one vice run throuo;h all. Let each dis- 
tinction have its salutary transition, and criti- 
cally deliver thee from the imperfections of the 
former ; so ordering the whole, that prudence 
and virtue may have the largest section. Do icor. xiii. 
as a child but when thou art a child, and ride Hor.sat.ii. 
not on a reed at twenty. He who hath not 3.248. 
taken leave of the follies of his youth, and in 
his maturer state scarce got out of that division, 
disproportionately divide th his days, crowds up 
the latter part of his life, and leaves too narrow 
a corner for the age of wisdom ; and so hath 
room to be a man, scarce longer than he hath 
been a youth. Rather than to make this confu- 
sion, anticipate the virtues of age, and live long 
without the infirmities of it. So mayest thou 
count up thy days as some do Adam's, that is, 
by anticipation ; so mayest thou be coetaneous Cf- i^ei' 
unto thy elders, and a father unto thy contem- 
poraries. 



Med. xxii. 
xxxix. 



1 

246 CHRISTIAN MORALS. J 

•1 
IX. While others are curious in the choice of \ 
good air, and chiefly sohcitous for heahhful hab- -i 
itations, study thou conversation, and be critical 
in thy consortion. The aspects, conjunctions, i 
and configurations of the stars, which mutually ! 
diversify, intend, or qualify their influences, are j 
but the varieties of their nearer or farther con- \ 
versation with one another, and like the con- j 
sortion of men, whereby they become better or \ 
worse, and even exchanoje their natures. Since ! 
men live by examples, and will be imitating j 
something, order thy imitation to thy improve- , 
ment, not thy ruin. Look not for roses in At- | 
talus his garden,* or wholesome flowers in a 
venomous plantation. And since there is scarce ■ 
any one bad, but some others are the worse for I 
him, tempt not contagion by proximity, and haz- I 
ard not thyself in the shadow of corruption. ■ 
He who hath not early suffered this shipwreck, ! 
Vide The- and in his younger days escaped this Chary bdis, , 

sens in ii i .i 

Plutarch, may make a hapj^y voyage, and not come m 
with black sails into the port. Self-conversation, 

or to be alone, is better than such consortion. ; 

Some schoolmen tell us, that he is properly j 

alone, with whom in the same place there is ; 

Dan. iv. no otlicr of tlic samo species. Nebuchadnezzar ! 

* Omissa deinde regni administratione, Jiorios fodiebat, gramina 

seminabat, et noxia innoxiis permiscebat ; eaque omnia veneni '• 

succo infecta, velut peculiar e munus, amicis mittebat. Justin. Hist. \ 

xxxvi. 4. i 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 247 

was alone, though among the beasts of the field ; 

faxid a wise man may be tolerably said to be 
'alone, though with a rabble of people little 
better than the beasts about him. Unthinking 
heads, who have not learned to be alone, are in 

(a prison to themselves, if they be not also with 
others: whereas, on the contrary, they whose 
thoughts are in a fair, and hurry within, are 
sometimes fain to retire into company, to be 
out of the crowd of themselves. He who must 
needs have company, must needs have some- 
times bad company. Be able to be alone. Lose 
not the advantage of solitude, and the society of 
thyself; nor be only content, but delight to be 
alone and single with Omnipresency. He who 

(is thus prepared, the day is not uneasy, nor the 
night black unto him. Darkness may bound 
his eyes, not his imagination. In his bed he 
may lie, like Pompey and his sons, in all quar- 
ters of the earth ; * may speculate the universe, 
and enjoy the whole world in the hermitage of 
himself. Thus the old ascetic Christians found 
a paradise in a desert, and with little converse 
on earth held a conversation in heaven ; thus 
they astronomised in caves, and, though they 
beheld not the stars, had the glory of heaven 

before them. , 

{' 

* " Pompeios Juvenes Asia atque Eurqpa, sed ipstim ieiTa iegit 
Libyes.''^ 



248 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

X. Let the characters of good things stand 
indcHbly in thy mind, and thy thoughts be ac- 
tive on them. Trust not too much unto sug- 
gestions from reminiscential amulets, or artificial 
memorandums. Let the mortifying Janus of 
Covarrubias* be in thy daily thoughts, not only 
on thy hand and signets. Rely not alone upon 
silent and dumb remembrances. Behold not 
death's heads till thou dost not see them, nor 
look upon mortifying objects till thou overlook- 
est them. Forget not how assuefaction unto 
anything minorates the passion from it ; how 
constant objects lose their hints, and steal an 
inadvertisement upon us. There is no excuse 
to forget what everything prompts unto us. To 
thoughtful observators, the whole world is a 
phylactery ; and everything we see, an item of 
the wisdom, power, or goodness of God. Hap- 
py are they who verify their amulets, and make 
their phylacteries speak in their lives and ac- 
tions. To run on in despite of the revulsions 
and pull-backs of such remoras, aggravates our 
transo-ressions. When death's heads on our 
hands have no influence upon our heads, and 

* Don Sebastian de Covarrubias writ three centuries of moral 
emblems, in Spanish. In the 88th of the second century, he sets 
down two faces averse, and conjoined, Janus-like; the one a gal- 
lant beautiful face, the other a death's-head face, with this motto 
out of Ovid his Metamorphosis, 

" Quid fuerim, quid simque, vide." 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 249 

fleshless cadavers abate not the exorbitances of 
the flesh; when crucifixes upon men's hearts 
suppress not their bad commotions, and His 
imao;e who was murdered for us withholds not 
from blood and murder ; phylacteries prove but 
formalities, and their despised hints sharpen our 
condemnations. 

XI. Look not for whales in the Euxine Sea, 
or expect great matters where they are not to 
be found. Seek not for profundity in shallow- 
ness, or fertility in a wilderness. Place not the 
expectation of great happiness here below, or 
think to find heaven on earth ; wherem we 
must be content with embryon felicities, and 
fruitions of doubtful faces : for the circle of our 
felicities makes but short arches. In every 
clime we are in a periscian state ; * and, with 
our light, our shadow and darkness walk about 
us. Our contentments stand upon the tops of 
pyramids, ready to fall off, and the insecurity 
of their enjoyments abrupteth our tranquillities. 
What we magnify is magnificent, but, like to 
the Colossus, noble without, stuffed with rub- 
bish and coarse metal within. Even the sun, 
whose glorious outside we behold, may have 
dark and smoky entrails. In vain we admire 

* The Periscii are those who, living within the polar circle, 
see the sun move round them, and consequently project their 
shadows in all directions. 



250 CHRISTIAN MORALS, '^ 

the lustre of anything seen : that which is truly ; 

(glorious, is invisible. Paradise was but a part j 

of the earth, lost not only to our fruition but 

our knowledge. And if, according to old dic-7; 

tates, no man can be said to be happy before?; 

death ; the happiness of this life goes for noth-. ; 

ing before it be over, and while we think our-Vj 

selves happy we do but usurp that name. Cer- i 

^ tainly, true beatitude groweth not on earth, nor 

hath this world in it the expectations we have 

of it. He swims in oil, and can hardly avoid j 

sinking, who hath such light foundations to sup- j 

port him : 't is therefore happy, that we have i 

two worlds to hold on. To enjoy true happi- ■ 

ness we must travel into a very far country, i 

and even out of ourselves ; for the pearl we i 

seek for is not to be found in the Indian, but in ] 

the empyrean ocean. , 

Ecci.vii. 9. XII. Answer not the spur of fury, and be ' 

not prodigal or prodigious in revenge. Make i 

See Vedius uot ouc iu tlic HistoHa horriMlis ; flay not thy | 

pun^H N s^^^'^^^^ f*^i' ^ broken glass, nor pound him in 

ix.23. a mortar who ofFendeth thee ; supererogate not i 

ProTxxvH. ^^^ ^^^^ worst scusc, aud overdo not the neces- '\ 

22. sities of evil ; humour not the injustice of re- | 

venge. Be not stoically mistaken in the equal- ; 

ity of sins, nor commutatively iniquous in the \ 

valuation of transo-ressions ; but weio;h them in ; 

the scales of heaven, and by the weights of / 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 251 

righteous reason. Think that revenge too high 
which is but level with the offence. Let thy 
arrows of revenge fly short ; or be aimed like 
those of Jonathan, to fall beside the mark. Too i Sam. xx. 

20. 

many there be to whom a dead enemy smells 
well, and who find musk and amber in revenge. 
The ferity of such minds holds no rule in re- 
taliations ; requirmg too often a head for a 
tooth, and the supreme revenge for trespasses 
; which a night's rest should obliterate. But 
patient meekness takes injuries like pills, not 
chewing, but swallowing them down, laconically 
suffering, and silently passing them over ; while 
angered pride makes a noise, like Homerican Juv. Sat. 
Mars, at every scratch of offences. Since wo- 
men do most delight in revenge, it may seem sat. xm. 
but feminine manhood to be vindictive. If thou 
must needs have thy revenge of thine enemy, 
(with a soft tongue break his bones, heap coals ^^^^ 
' pf fire on his head, forgive him and enjoy it. 
\To forgive our enemies is a charming way of 
( revenge, and a short Caesarean conquest, over- 
V coming without a blow ; laying our enemies at 
' our feet, under sorrow, shame, and repentance ; 
leaving our foes our fi'iends, and solicitously 
inclined to grateful retaliations. Thus to re- 
turn upon our adversaries is a healing way of 
revenge ; and to do good for evil a soft and 
melting ultion, a method taught from heaven to 



xxy. 

15, 21, 22. 



252 CHRISTIAN MORALS, 






keep all smooth on earth.* Common forcible 
ways make not an end of evil, but leave hatred 
and mahce behind them. An enemy thus rec 
onciled is little to be trusted, as wanting the 
foundation of love and charity, and but for a 
time restrained by disadvantage or inability 
If thou hast not mercy for others, yet be not 
cruel unto thyself. To ruminate upon evils^ 
to make critical notes upon injuries, and be too 
acute in their apprehensions, is to add unto our 
own tortures, to feather the arrows of our en- 
emies, to lash ourselves with the scorpions of ) 
our foes, and to resolve to sleep no more ; for 
injm'ies long dreamt on, take away at last all 
rest ; and he sleeps but like Regulus who busi- 
eth his head about them.f 

XIII. Amuse not thyself about the riddles 
of future things. Study prophecies when they 
are become histories, and past hovering in their 
causes. Eye well things past and present, and 
let conjectural sagacity suffice for things to come. 
There is a sober latitude for prescience in con- 
tingencies of discoverable tempers, whereby dis- 
cerning heads see sometimes beyond their eyes, 

* " Hath any wronged thee ? be bravely revenged ; sleight it, 
and the work 's begun; forgive it, 'tis finisht: he is below him- 
selfe that is not above an injury." — Quarles's Enchir. ii. 86. 

t Like Regulus. Dion Cassius relates that, when Regulus fell 
into the hands of the Carthaginians, he was kept shut up with an 
Elephant, in order that his sleep might be disturbed. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 253 

and wise men become prophetical. Leave 
cloudy predictions to their periods, and let ap- 
pointed seasons have the lot of their accom- 
plishments. It is too early to study such proph- 
ecies before they have been long made, before 
some train of their causes have already taken 
fire, laying open in part what lay obscure and 
before buried unto us. For the voice of proph- 
ecies is like that of Avhispering-places ; they who 
are near, or at a little distance, hear nothing; 
those at the farthest extremity will understand 
all. But a retrograde cognition of times past, 
and things which have already been, is more 
satisfactory than a suspended knowledge of what 
is yet unexistent. And the greatest part of 
time being already wrapt up in things beliind 
us, it is now somewhat late to bait after things 
before us ; for futurity still shortens, and time 
present sucks in time to come. What is pro- 
phetical in one age, proves historical in another, 
and so must hold on unto the last of time ; 
when there will be no room for prediction, when 
Janus shall lose one face, and the long beard of 
time shall look like those of David's servants, 2Sain. 
shorn away upon one side ; and when, if the 
expected Elias should appear, he might say 
much of what is past, not much of what is to 
come. 

XIV.: Live unto the dignity of thy nature. 



254 CHRISTIAN MORALS. | 

and leave it not disputable at last, whether ,: 
thou hast been a man ; or, since thou art a com- ; 
position of man and beast, how thou hast pre- ; 
dominantly passed thy days, to state the denom- j 
ination. Unman not, therefore, thyself by a -I 
bestial transformation, nor realize old fables. ' 
Expose not thyself by four-footed manners unto -^ 
monstrous draughts, and caricatura representa- j, 
tions. Think not after the old Pythagorean ■ 
conceit, what beast thou mayest be after death. ] 
Be not under any brvital metempsychosis while ] 
thou livest, and walkest about erectly under \ 
the scheme of man. In thine own circumfer- \ 
ence, as in that of the earth, let the rational \ 
horizon be larger than the sensible, and the : 
circle of reason than of sense ; let the divine " 
part be upward, and the region of beast below ; j 
otherwise, it is but to live invertedly, and Avith j 
thy head unto the heels of thy antipodes. De- ■ 
sert not thy title to a divine particle and union ; 
with invisibles. Let true knowledge and vir- ' 
( tue tell the lower world thou art a part of the J 
' higher. Let thy thoughts be of things which ] 
have not entered into the hearts of beasts ; think 
of things long passed, and long to come : ac- 
quaint thyself with the ehoragium of the stars, 
and consider the vast expansion beyond them. 
Let intellectual tubes give thee a glance of 
things, which visive organs reach not. Have 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 255 

a glimpse of incomprehensibles, and thoughts 
of things which thoughts but tenderly touch. 

; Lodge immaterials in thy head; ascend unto 
invisibles ; fill thy spirit with spirituals, with 

(the mysteries of faith, the magnalities of relig- 
ion, and thy life with the honour of God ; with- 
out which, though giants in wealth and dignity, 
we are but dwarfs and pigmies in humanity, 
and may hold a pitiful rank in that triple divis- 
ion of mankind into heroes, men, and beasts. 
For though human souls are said to be equal, 
yet is there no small inequality in their opera- 
tions ; some maintain the allowable station of 
men ; many are far below it ; and some have been 
so divine as to approach the apogeum of their 
natures, and to be in the confinium of spirits. 

XV. Behold thyself by inward optics and 
the crystalline of thy soul. Strange it is, that 
in the most perfect sense there should be so 
many fallacies, that we are fain to make a doc- 
trine, and often to see by art. But the great- 
est imperfection is in our inward sight, that is, 
to be ghosts unto our own eyes ; and while we 
are so sharp-sighted as to look through others, 
to be invisible unto ourselves ; for the inward 
eyes are more fallacious than the outward.* 

* " Is it because the mind is like the ej^e 

(Through which it gathers knowledge by degrees), 
Whose rays reflect not, but spread outwardly ; 
Not seeing itself when other things it sees ? 



256 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

The vices we scoff at in others laugh at us 
within ourselves. Avarice, pride, falsehood lie 
undiscerned and blindly in us, even to the age 
of bhndness ; and, therefore, to see ourselves 
interiorly, we are fain to borrow other men's 
eyes ; wherein ti-ue friends are good infonners, 
and censurers no bad friends. Conscience only, 
that can see without light, sits in the Areopa- 
gy and dark tribunal of our hearts, surveying 
our thoughts and condemning their obliquities. 
Happy is that state of vision that can see with- 
out light, thouo[h all should look as before the 
creation, when there was not an eye to see, or 
light to actuate a vision : wherein, notwithstand- 
ing, obscurity is only imaginable respectively 
unto eyes : for unto God there was none ; eter- 
nal Light was ever ; created light was for the 
creation, not himself; and as he saw before the 
sun, may still also see without it. In the city 
Rev. xxi. Qf ti^e j-^ew Jerusalem there is neither sun nor 

23. 

xxii. 5. moon ; where glorified eyes must see by the 
archetypal Sun, or the light of God, able to 
illuminate intellectual eyes, and malvc unknown 
visions. Intuitive perceptions in spiritual be- 

*' No, doubtless; for the mind can backward cast 
Upon herself her understandhig light; 
But she is so corrupt, and so defaced, 
As her own image doth herself affright." 

Sir John Davies. 
Cf. Troilus and Cressida, iii. 3. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 257 

ings may, perhaps, hold some analogy unto 
vision ; but yet how they see us, or one another, 
what eye, what light, or what perception is 
required unto their intuition, is yet dark unto 
our apprehension : and even how they see God, 
or how unto our glorified eyes the beatifical Cf. Rei. 
vision will be celebrated, another world must 
tell us, when perceptions will be new, and we 
may hope to behold invisibles. 

XVI. When all looks fair about, and thou 
seest not a cloud so big; as a hand to threaten i i^^^s^ 
thee, forget not the wheel of things : thnik of 
sullen vicissitudes, but beat not thy brains to 
foreknow them. Be armed against such ob- 
scurities, rather by submission than foreknowl- 
edcre. The knowledo-e of future evils mortifies 
present felicities, and there is more content in 
\the uncertainty or ignorance of them. This 
favour our Saviour vouchsafed unto Peter, when ^'•/°J'° 

XXI. 18, 19. 

he foretold not his death in plain terms, and so 
by an ambiguous and cloudy delivery damped 
not the spirit of his disciples. Bvit in the as- 
sured foreknowledge of the deluge, Noah lived 
many years under the affliction of a flood ; and 
Jerusalem was taken unto Jeremiah before it 
was besieged. And therefore the wisdom of 
astrologers, who speak of future things, hath 
wisely softened the severity of their doctrines ; 
and even in their sad predictions, while they 
17 



258 CHRISTIAN MORALS, 1 

tell us of inclination, not coaction, from the I 
stars, they kill us not with Stygian oaths and , 
merciless necessity, but leave us hope of evasion. ; 
XVII. If thou hast the brow to endure the " 
name of traitor, perjured, or oppressor, yet cov- i 
er thy face when ingratitude is thrown at thee, i 
If that degenerous vice possess thee, hide thy- '| 
self in the shadow of thy shame, and pollute \ 
not noble society. Grateful ingenuities are con- | 
tent to be obliged within some compass of ret- ji| 
ribution ; and being depressed by the weight ] 
of iterated favours, may so labour under their ] 
inabilities of requital, as to abate the content - 
from kindnesses. ■ But narrow, self-ended souls 
make prescription of good offices, and, obliged 
by often favours, think others still due unto 
them : whereas, if they but once fail, they prove 
so perversely ungrateful as to make nothing of) 
former courtesies, and to bury all that is past./'i 
Such tempers pervert the generous course of/ 
things ; for they discourage the inclinations of ) 
noble minds, and make beneficcncy cool unt6^ : 
acts of obligation, whereby the grateful world \| 
should subsist, and have their consolation. Com^ : 
mon gratitude must be kept ali^^e by the addi-, \ 
tionary fuel of new courtesies : but generous 
gratitudes, though but once well obliged, with- i 
out quickening repetitions or expectation of new )| 
favours, have thankful minds forever; for they | 



I 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 259 

write not tlieir obligations in sandy, but marble 
memories, wliicli wear not out but with them- 
selves. 

XVIII. Think not silence the wisdom of 
fools, but, if rightly timed, the honour of wise 
men who have not the infirmity but the virtue 

of taciturnity ; and speak not out of the abun- st. Matt. 
dance, but the well-weio;hed thouo-hts of their * ' 
hearts. Such silence may be eloquence, and speak 
thy worth above the power of w^ords. Make 
such a one thy friend, in whom princes may be 
happy, and great counsels successful. Let him 
have the key of thy heart, who hath the lock of 
his own, which no temptation can open ; * where 
thy secrets may lastingly lie, like the lamp in 
Olybius his urn, alive, and light, but close and 
invisible. 

XIX. Let thy oaths be sacred, and promises 

be made upon the altar of thy heart. Call not ^^°- ^p- ^^ 
Jove to witness, with a stone m one nana, and 12. 
a straw in another; and so make chaff and 
stubble of thy vows. Worldly spirits, whose 
interest is their belief, make cobwebs of obliga- 
tions ; and, if they can find ways to elude the 
urn of the Praetor, f will trust the thunderbolt 

* " keep thy friend 

Under thy own life's key." 

All 's Well that Ends Well, i. 1. Cf. Ham. iii. 2. 
t The vessel into which the ticket of condemnation or acquittal 
was cast. Dr. Johnson. 



demjurant. 
Curtius 



260 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 

i 

of Jupiter ; and, therefore, if they should as | 

Knoiies's deeply swear as Osman to Bethlem Gabor, yet | 

Turks, whether they would be bound by those chains, ; 

p. 1383. ^j^(j jjq|. fjjj(j ways to cut such Gordian knots, i 

we could have no just assurance. But honest \ 

men's words are Stygian oaths, and promises j 

inviolable. These are not the men for whom ■ 

the fetters of law were first forged ; they needed i 

coiendofi- not the solemnness of oaths ; by keeping their 

faith they swear, and evacuate such confirma- ' 

tions. : 

(1 

XX. Though the world be histrionical, and \ 
most men live ironically, yet be thou what thou / 
singly art, and personate only thyself. SwimJ 
smoothly in the stream of thy nature, and live^ 
but one man. To single hearts doubling is dis- 
cruciating: such tempers must sweat to dis- 
semble, and prove but hypocritical hypocrites, j 
Simulation must be short : men do not easily j 
continue a counterfeiting life, or dissemble unto \ 
death. He who counterfeiteth, acts a part; \ 
and is, as it were, out of himself: which, if 
long, proves so irksome, that men are glad to ' 
pull off their vizards, and resume themselves ,1 
again ; no practice being able to naturalize such 
unnaturals, or make a man rest content not to 
be himself. And therefore, since sincerity is 
thy temper, let veracity be thy virtue, in words, 
manners, and actions. To offer at iniquities. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 261 

which have so httle foundations in thee, were to 
be vicious up-hill, and strain for thy condem- 
nation. Persons viciously inclined want no 
wheels to make them actively vicious ; as hav- 
ing the elater and spring of their own natures 
to facilitate their iniquities. And therefore so 
many who are sinistrous unto good actions, are 
ambidexterous unto bad ; and Vulcans in virtu- 
ous paths, Achilleses in vicious motions. 

XXI. Rest not in the high-strained para- 
doxes of old philosophy, supported by naked 
reason and the reward of mortal felicity ; but 
labour in the ethics of faith, built upon heavenly 
assistance, and the happiness of both beings. 
Understand the rules, but swear not unto the 
doctrines of Zeno or Epicurus. Look beyond 
Antoninus, and terminate not thy morals in 
Seneca or Epictetus. Let not the twelve, but 
the two tables be thy Law : let Pythagoras be 
thy remembrancer, not thy textuary and final 
instructor ; and learn the vanity of the world 
rather from Solomon than Phocylides. Sleep 
not in the dogmas of the Peripatus, Academy, 
or Porticus. Be a morahst of the Mount,* 

^n Epictetus in the faith, and Christianize thy 
notions. 

XXII. In seventy or eighty years a man 

* That is, Live according to the rules laid down in our Sav- 
iour's Sermon on the Mount. St. Matt, v., vi., vii. 



262 CHRISTIAN MORALS. ; 

i 
may have a deep gust of the world, know what ; 
it is, what it can afford, and what it is to have ' 
been a man. Such a latitude of years may ] 
hold a considerable corner in the general map ; 
of time ; and a man may have a curt epitome of 
the whole coiu'se thereof in the days of his own i 
life ; may clearly see he hath but acted over his : 
forefathers, what it was to live in ages past, and . 
what living will be in all ages to come. ] 

He is like to be the best judge of time who \ 
hath lived to see about the sixtieth part thereof. \ 
Persons of short times may know what it is to ' 
live, but not the life of man, who, having little ' 
behind them, are but Januses of one face, and ': 
know not singularities enough to raise axioms 
of this world : but such a compass of years will I 
show new examples of old things, parallelisms 
of occurrences through the whole course of J 
time, and nothing be monstrous unto him, who ; 
may in that time understand not only the va- ' 
rieties of men, but the variation of himself, and ' 
how many men he hath been in that extent of j 
time. i 

He may have a close apprehension what it ; 
is to be forgotten, while he hath lived to find 
none who could remember his father, or scarce \ 
the friends of his youth ; and may sensibly see ' 
with what a face in no long time oblivion Avill ; 
look upon himself. His progeny may never be i 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 263 

his posterity ; lie may go out of the world less 
related than he came into it ; and, considering 
the frequent mortality in friends and relations, 
in such a term of time, he may pass away divers 
years in sorrow and black habits, and leave none 

(^to mourn for himself; orbity may be his inher- 

' itance, and riches his repentance. 

In such a thread of time, and long observa- 
tion of men, he may acquire a physiognomi- 
cal intuitive knowledge ; judge the interiors by 
the outside, and raise conjectures at first sight ; 
and knowing what men have been, what they 
are, what children probably will be, may in 
the present age behold a good part and the 
temper of the next ; and since so many live 
by the rules of constitution, and so few over- 
come their temperamental inclinations, make no 
improbable predictions. 

Such a portion of time will afford a large 
prospect backward, and authentic reflection 
show how far he hath performed the great in- 
tention of his being, in the honour of his Maker ; 
whether he hath made good the principles of 
his nature, and what he was made to be ; what 
characteristic and special mark he hath left, 
to be observable in his generation ; whether 
he hath lived to purpose or in vain ; and what 
he hath added, acted, or performed, that might 
considerably speak him a man. 



264 CHRISTIAN MORALS. \ 

In such an age, delights will be undelightful, ; 
and pleasures grow stale unto him ; antiquated j 
theorems will revive, and Solomon's maxims J 
be demonstrations unto him ; hopes or presump- ,' 
lions be over, and despair grow up of any satis- ■ 
faction below. And having been long tossed \ 
in the ocean of this world, he will by that time t 
feel the in-drauo;ht of another, unto which this I 
seems but preparatory and without it of no ^ 
high value. He will experimentally find the ■ 
emptiness of all things, and the nothing of 
what is past ; and wisely grounding upon true i 
Christian expectations, finding so much past, ! 
will wholly fix upon what is to come. He will ; 
long for perpetuity, and live as though he made 
haste to be happy. The last may prove the j 
prime part of his life, and those his best days \ 
which he lived nearest heaven. 

XXIII. Live happy in the Elysium of a \ 
virtuously composed mind, and let intellectual 
contents exceed the delights wherein mere pleas- ; 
urists place their paradise. Bear not too slack i 
reins upon pleasure, nor let complexion or conta- | 
gion betray thee unto the exorbitancy of delight. ; 
Make pleasure thy recreation or intermissive ' 
relaxation, not thy Diana, life, and profession. | 
'Voluptuousness is as insatiable as covetousness. ] 
^.Tranquillity is better than jollity, and to appease j 
pain than to invent pleasure. ■: Our hard en- j 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 265 

trance into the world, our miserable going out 
of it, our sicknesses, disturbances, and sad ren- 
counters in it, do clamorously tell us we came 
not into the world to run a race of delight, 
but to perform the sober acts and serious pur- 
poses of man ; which to omit were foully to 
miscarry in the advantage of humanity, to play 
away an uniterable life, and to have lived in 

( vain. Forget not the capital end, and frustrate 
not the opportunity of once living. Dream 
not of any kind of metempsychosis or trans- 
animation, but into thine own body, and that 
after a long time ; and then also unto wail or 
bliss, according to thy first and fundamental 
life. Upon a curricle in this world depends a 
long course of the next, and upon a narrow 
scene here an endless expansion hereafter. In 
vain some think to have an end of their beings 

f with their lives. Things cannot get out of their 
natures, or be, or not be, in despite of their 
constitutions. Rational existences in heaven 
perish not at all, and but partially on earth : 
that which is thus once, will in some way be 
always : the first living human soul is still alive, 
and all Adam hath found no period. 

XXIV. Since the stars of heaven do differ ^ c^''- ^^• 

41, 

in glory ; since it hath pleased the Almighty 
hand to honour the north pole with lights above 
the south ; since there are some stars so bright 



266 CHRISTIAN MORALS. | 



that they can hardly be looked upon, some so " 
dim that they can scarcely be seen, and vast I 
numbers not to be seen at all even by artificial \ 
eyes ; read thou the earth in heaven, and things '] 
below from above. Look contentedly upon the ' 
scattered difference of things, and expect not 
equality in lustre, dignity, or perfection, in re- i 
gions or persons below ; where numerous num- 
bers must be content to stand like lacteous or ^j 
nebulous stars, little taken notice of, or dim in ', 
their generations. All which may be content- i 
edly allowable in tlie affairs and ends of this i 
world, and in suspension unto what will be in 
the order of things hereafter, and the new sys- . 
tem of mankind which will be in the world to 

St. Matt, come ; when the last may be the first, and the j 
first the last ; when Lazarus may sit above j 

St. Matt. Cassar, and the just obscure on earth shall " 
shine like the sun in heaven ; when persona- i 
tions shall cease, and histrionism of happiness y 
be over ; when reality shall rule, and all shall 
be as they shall be forever. 

XXV. AYhen the Stoic said that life would J 
not be accepted if it were offered unto such , 
as knew it,* he spoke too meanly of that state : 
of being which placeth us in the form of men. : 
It more depreciates the value of this life, that ; 
men would not live it over again ; for although ; 

* Vitam nemo accijperet^ si dareiur scientibus. — Seneca. \ 



xiii. 43. 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 267 

they would still live on, yet few or none can 
endure to think of being twice the same men 
upon earth, and some had rather never have 
dived, than to tread over their days once more. 
Cicero in a prosperous state had not the pa- DeSenec- 
tience to think of beginning in a cradle agam. 
Job would not only curse the day of his nativity, Job iu. 
but also of his renascency, if he were to act 
over his disasters and the miseries of the duno;- 
hill. But the greatest underweening of this 
life is to undervalue that unto which this is 
but exordial, or a passage leading unto it. The 
great advantage of this mean life is thereby to 
stand in a capacity of a better ; for the colonies 
of heaven must be drawn from earth, and the 
sons of the first Adam are only heirs unto the 
second. Thus Adam came into this world with 
the power also of another ; not only to replen- 
ish the earth, but the everlasting mansions of 
heaven. Where we were when the foundations Jo^xxxviii- 

4-7. 

of the earth were laid, when the morning stars 
sang tocrether, and all the sons of God shouted 
for joy. He must answer who asked it ; who 
understands entities of preordination, and beings 
yet unbeing ; who hath in his intellect the ideal 
existences of things, and entities before their 
extances. Thouoh it looks but like an imam- 
nary kind of existency, to be before we are ; 
yet since we are under the decree or prescience 



268 CHRISTIAN MORALS. \ 

i 
of a sure and omnipotent power, it may be 

somewhat more than a nonentity to be in that | 
cxi^iix, mind, unto which all things are present. ' 

XXYI. If the end of the world shall have ; 
the same foregoing signs as the period of em- \ 
pires, states, and dominions in it, that is, cor- - 
ruption of manners, inhuman degenerations, and '• 
deluge of iniquities ; it may be doubted whether 1 
that final time be so far off, of whose day and | 
hour there can be no prescience. But while | 
all men doubt, and none can determine how i 
long the world shall last, some may wonder 
that it hath spun out so long and unto our days. | 
For if the Almighty had not determined a fixed I 
duration unto it, according to his mighty and ; 
merciful designments in it ; if he had not said \ 
Jobxxxriii. ^j-^^q j^^ j^g \^q (Jj^j ^^^q r^ pj^j,|. ^f j^^ hitherto '\ 

shalt thou go and no further; if we consider •; 
the incessant and cutting provocations from the j 
earth ; it is not without amazement, how his ; 
patience hath permitted so long a continuance ; 
unto it ; how he, wdio cursed the earth in the 
first days of the first man, and drowned it in j 
the tenth generation after, should thus lastingly : 
contend with flesh, and yet defer the last flames. I 
For since he is sharply provoked every moment, 
yet punisheth to pardon, and forgives to forgive 
again ; what patience could be content to act 
over such vicissitudes, or accept of repentances 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 269 

which must have after-penitences, His goodness 
can only tell us. And surely if the j^atience 
of Heaven were not proportionable unto the 
provocations from earth, there needed an in- 
tercessor not only for the sins, but the duration 
of this world, and to lead it up unto the present 
computation. Without such a merciful longa- 
nimity, the heavens would never be so aged ps. di.25 
as to grow old like a garment. It were in vain 
to infer from the doctrine of the sphere, that 
the time might come, when Capella, a noble 
northern star, would have its motion in the 
equator ; that the northern zodiacal signs would 
at length be the southern, the southern the 
northern, and Capricorn become our Cancer. 
(However therefore the wisdom of the Creator 
hath ordered the duration of the world, yet 
since the end thereof brings the accomplishment 
of our happiness, since some would be content 
that it should have no end, since evil men and 
spirits do fear it may be too short, since good 
men hope it may not be too long; the prayer 

of the saints under the altar will be the sup- Rev. vi. 

9 10. 
plication of the righteous world, that his mercy 

would abridge their languishing expectation, and 

hasten the accomplishment of their happy state 

Cto come. 

XXYII. Though good men are often taken is. mi. 1. 

(away from the evil to come ; though some in 



270 CHRISTIAN MORALS, % 

evil days have been glad that they were old, \ 
nor long to behold the miquities of a wicked \ 
world, or judgments threatened by them ; yet j 
is it no small satisfaction unto honest minds \ 
to leave the world in virtuous well-tempered ] 
times, under a prospect of good to come, and l 
continuation of worthy ways acceptable unto | 
God and man. Men who die in deplorable | 
days, which they regretfully behold, have not ! 
their eyes closed with the like content ; while | 
they cannot avoid the thoughts of proceeding | 
or growing enormities, displeasing unto that 
Spirit unto whom they are then going, whose :■ 
honour they desire in all times and throughout } 
all generations. If Lucifer could be freed from \ 
his dismal place, he would little care though j 
the rest were left behind. Too many there ^ 
may be of Nero's mind, who, if their own turn \ 
were served, would not regard what became 
Cf. Rei. of others ; and, when they die themselves, care 
ji^ i^^ ' not if all perish. But good men's wishes ex- 
tend beyond their lives, for the happiness of 
times to come, and never to be known unto 
them. And, therefore, while so many question 
prayers for the dead, they charitably pray for 
those who are not yet alive ; they are not so 
enviously ambitious to go to heaven by them- 
selves ; they cannot but humbly wish that the 
xii. 32. * little flock might be greater, the narrow gate 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 271 

wider, and that, as many are called, so not a st-Matt. 
few might be chosen. 

XXVIII. That a greater number of angels 
remained in heaven than fell from it, the school- 
men will tell us ; that the number of blessed 
souls will not come short of that vast number 
of fallen spirits, we have the favourable calcu- 
lation of others. What age or century hath 
sent most souls mito heaven. He can tell who 
vouchsafeth that honour unto them. Though 
the number of the blessed must be complete 
before the world can pass away ; yet since the 
world itself seems in the wane, and we liaA^e 
no such comfortable prognostics of latter times ; 
since a greater part of time is spun than is to 
come, and the blessed roll already much replen- 
ished ; happy are those pieties, which solicitous- 
ly look about, and hasten to make one of that 
already much filled and abbreviated list to come. 

XXIX. Think not thy time short in this 
world, since the world itself is not long. The 
created world is but a small parenthesis in 
eternity ; and a short interposition, for a time, 
between such a state of duration as was before 
it and may be after it. And if we should allow 
of the old tradition, that the world should last 

(six thousand years, it could scarce have the 
name of old, since the first man lived near a 
sixth part thereof, and seven Methuselahs would ^®°- ^- ^' 



272 CHRISTIAN MORALS. 



I 



exceed its whole duration. However, to pal- i 
liate the shortness of our lives, and somewhat \ 
to compensate our brief term in this world, it , 
is good to know as much as we can of it ; and J 
also, so far as possibly in us lieth, to hold such = 
a theory of times past, as though we had seen ] 
the same. He who hath thus considered the ' 
world, as also how therein things long past have ; 
been answered by things present ; how matters in j 
one ao-e have been acted over in another : and i 

Ecci. i. 9, i^Q^y there is nothing new under the sun ; may i 
conceive himself in some manner to have lived \ 
from the beginning, and to be as old as the ' 
w^orld ; and if he should still live on, it would ; 
be but the same thing. 

XXX. Lastly ; if length of days be thy por- j 

iior. Ep. i. tion, make it not thy expectation. Reckon not j 
upon long life : think every day the last, and j 
live always beyond thy account. He that so i 
often surviveth his expectation lives many lives, ■ 
and will scarce complain of the shortness of his j 
days. Time past is gone like a shadow ; make ' 
time to come present. Apj)roximate thy latter ; 
times by present apprehensions of them : be j 
like a neighbour unto the grave, and think ■■ 
there is but little to come. And since there \ 
is something of us that will still live on, join i 
both lives together, and live in one but for the ' 
other. He who thus ordereth the purposes of | 



iv. 13. 



I 



CHRISTIAN MORALS. 273 j 

,-■ . i 

I this life, will never be far from the next ; and i 

is in some manner already in it, by a bappy con- 

\ formity and close apprehension of it. And if, 

as we have elsewhere declared, any have been loJ^^siiy- 

'' ^ driotaphin, I 

so happy as personally to understand Christian orum- ] 

annihilation, ecstasy, exolution, transformation, ^'^^' \ 

the kiss of the spouse, and ingression into the di- • 

vine shadow, according to mystical theology, they j 

have already had a handsome anticipation ' 

of heaven, the world is in a man- ] 

ner over, and the earth j 

in ashes unto 

them. i 



i 



Hydriotaphia. 



Urn-Burial ; or, a Discourse of the 

Sepulchral Urns lately found 

IN Norfolk. 




TO MY 

WORTHY AND HONOURED FRIEND, 

THOMAS LE GROS, 

OF CROSTWICK, ESQ. 




HEN the funeral pyre was out, and 
the last valediction over, men took 
a lasting adieu of their interred 
friends, little expecting the curi- 
osity of future ages should comment upon their 
ashes ; and having no old experience of the 
duration of their rehcs, held no opinion of such 
after-considerations. 

But who knows the fate of his bones, or how 
often he is to be buried ? Who hath the oracle 
of his ashes, or whither they are to be scat- 
tered ? The relics of many lie, like the ruins 
of Pompey's,* in all parts of the earth ; and 
these may seem to have wandered far, when 

* " Pompeios juvenes Asia atque Europa, sed ipsum terra tegit 
Libyse." 



278 HYDRIOTAPHIA, 

they arrive at your hands, who, in a direct j 

and meridian travel, have but a few miles of j 

known earth between yourself and the pole.* j 

Brought That the bones of Theseus should be seen ] 

back by , . , 11. 

cimon. agam m Athens, was not beyond conjecture j 
Plutarch. ^^^ hopeful expectation ; but that these should \ 
arise so opportunely to serve yourself, was a hit 1 
of fate and honour beyond prediction. 

We cannot but wish these urns might have i 
the effect of theatrical vessels, and great Hip- ; 
podrome urns in Rome,t to resound the accla- ; 
mations and honour due unto you. But these ; 
are sad and sepulchral pitchers, which have no j 
joyful voices, silently expressing old mortality, j 
the ruins of forgotten times, and can only speak \ 
with hfe, how long in this corruptible frame j 
some parts may be uncorrupted, yet able to out- i 
last bones long unborn, and noblest pile among j 
us. j 

We present not these as any strange sight or 1 
spectacle unknown to your eyes, who have be- i 
held the best of urns and noblest variety of 
ashes ; who are yourself no slender master of 
antiquities, and can daily command the view of 
so many imperial faces ; J which raiseth your 

* Little directly but sea between your house and Greenland. 

t The great urns in the Hippodrome at Rome, conceived to re- 
sound the voices of the people at their shows. 

X Worthily possessed by that true gentleman, Sir Horatio 
Townshend, my honoured friend. 



DEDICATION. 279 

thoughts unto old things and consideration of 
times before you, when even living men were 
antiquities ; when the living might exceed the I 

dead, and to depart this world could not be \ 

properly said to go unto the greater number ; '^ i 

and so run up your thoughts upon the ancient \ 

of days, the antiquary's truest object, unto whom j 

the eldest parcels are young, and earth itself an ; 

infant, and without Egyptian account makes but which 
small noise in thousands. "^^,T *'^^ , 

world so 

We were hinted by the occasion, not catched many years j 

the opportunity to write of old things, or intrude ' j 

upon the antiquary. We are coldly drawn unto ; 
discourses of antiquities, who have scarce time 

before us to comprehend new things, or make ^ 

out learned novelties. But seeing they arose as ^ 

they lay, almost in silence among us, at least in ; 

short account suddenly passed over, we were i 
very unwilling they should die again and be 

buried twice among us. \ 

Besides, to preserve the living, and make the j 

dead to live, to keep men out of their urns, and J 

discourse of human fragments in them, is not j 

impertinent unto our profession, whose study is j 
life and death, who daily behold examples of 

mortality, and of all men least need artificial ', 

mementos or coflins by our bed-side to mind \ 
us of our graves. 

* Abiit adplures. } 



280 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

'T is time to observe occurrences, and let i 
nothing remarkable escape us. The supinity 
of elder days hath left so much in silence, or ; 
time hath so martyred the records, that the most ■ 
industrious heads do find no easy work to erect j 
a new Britannia.* i 

'T is opportune to look back upon old times \ 
and contemplate our forefathers. Great exam- i 
pies grow thin, and to be fetched from the passed \ 
world. Simplicity flies away, and iniquity comes | 
at long strides upon us. We have enough to do , 
to make up ourselves from present and passed '• 
times, and the whole stage of things scarce j 
serveth for our instruction. A complete piece ^ 
of virtue must be made up from the centos of ^ 
all ages, as all the beauties of Greece could i 
make but one handsome Venus. j 

In the time When the bones of King; Arthur were dig- ' 

of Henry , . ° -I 

the Second, gcd up, the old racc might think they beheld j 
Cambden. therein some originals of themselves. Unto ] 
these of our urns none here can pretend rela- 
tion, and can only behold the relics of those 
persons, who in their life giving the laws 
unto their predecessors, after long obscurity, 
now lie at their mercies. But remembering the 
early civility they brought upon these countries, 
and forgetting long-passed mischiefs, we mer- 

* "Wherein Mr. Dugdale hath excellently well endeavoured. 



DEDICATION. 281 

clfully preserve their bones, and insult not over 
their ashes. 

In the offer of these antiquities, we drive not 
at ancient famiUes, so long outlasted by them ; 
we are far from erecting your worth upon the 
pillars of your forefathers, whose merits you 
illustrate. We honor your old virtues, con- 
formable unto times before you, which are the 
noblest armoury. And having long experience 
of your friendly conversation, void of empty 
formality, full of freedom, constant and gener- 
ous honesty, I look upon you as a gem of the 
old rock,* and must profess myself, even to urn 
and ashes. 

Your ever faithful friend, 

and servant, 

Thomas Browne. 

Norwich, May i, 1658. 

* Adamas de rnpe veieri prcestantissimus. 




Hydriotaphia, 



CHAPTER I 




^N the deep discovery of the subter- 
ranean world, a shallow part would 
satisfy some inquirers ; who, if two 
or three yards were open about the 
surface, would not care to rake the bowels of 
Potosi, and regions towards the centre. Nature The rich 
hath furnished one part of the earth, and man of Peru. 
another. The treasures of time lie high, in 
urns, coins, and monuments, scarce below the 
roots of some vegetables. Time hath endless 
rarities, and shows of all varieties ; which re- 
veals old things in heaven, makes new discover- 
ies in earth, and even earth itself a discovery. 
That great antiquity, America, lay buried for a 
thousand years ; and a large part of the earth 
is still in the urn unto us. 

Thouo;h if Adam were made out of an ex- 



Sit tibi 
terra levis. 



284 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

tract of the earth, all parts might challenge a 
restitution ; yet few have returned their bones 
far lower than they might receive them ; not 
affecting the graves of giants, under hilly and 
heavy coverings, but, content with less than 
their own depth, liaA'e wished their bones might 
lie soft, and the earth be light upon them. 
Even such as hope to rise again would not be 
content w^ith central interment, or so desper- 
ately to place their relics as to lie beyond dis- 
covery and in no way to be seen again ; Avhich 
happy contrivance hath made communication 
with our forefathers, and left unto our view 
some parts which they never beheld themselves. 

Though earth hath engrossed the name, yet 
water hath proved the smartest grave, which in 
forty days swallowed almost mankind and the 
living creation, fishes not wholly escaping, ex- 
cept the salt ocean were handsomely contem- 
pered by a mixture of the fresh element. 

Many have taken voluminous pains to deter- 
mine the state of the soul upon disunion ; but 
men have been most fantastical in the singu- 
lar contrivances of their corporal dissolution ; 
whilst the soberest nations have rested in two 
ways, of simple inhumation and burning. 

That carnal interment or burying was of the 
elder date, the old examples of Abraham and 
the patriarchs are sufficient to illustrate, and 



URN-BURIAL. 285 

were without competition, if it could be made 
out that Adam was buried near Damascus, or 
Mount Calvary, according to some tradition. 
God himself, that buried but one, was pleased 
to make choice of this way, collectible from 
Scripture expression and the hot contest be- 
tween Satan and the Archangel about discover- 
ing the body of Moses. But the practice of 
burning was also of great antiquity, and of no 
slender extent. For (not to derive the same 
from Hercules) noble descriptions there are 
hereof in the Grecian ftmerals of Homer; in 
the formal obsequies of Patroclus and Achilles, 
and somewhat elder in the Theban war, and 
solemn combustion of Meneceus and Arche- 
morus, contemporary unto Jair, the eighth judge 
of Israel ; confirmable also among the Trojans 
from the funeral pyre of Hector, burnt before 
the gates of Troy, and the burning of Pen- 
thesilea, the Amazonian queen, and long con- 
tinuance of that practice in the inward coun- 
tries of Asia : while as low as the reimi of 
Julian, we find that the king of Chionia burnt Gumbrates, 
the body of his son, and interred the ashes in chionia,a 
a silver urn. country 

_,. • 1 1 1 n near Persia. 

!ihe same practice extended also far west, 
and, besides Herulians, Getes, and Thracians, 
was in use with most of the Celtse, Sarmatians, 
Germans, Gauls, Danes, Swedes, Norwegians, 



286 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

not to omit some use thereof among Cartha- 
ginians and Americans ; of greater antiquity 
among the Romans than most opinion, or Phny 
seems to allow. For (besides the old table 
laws of burning or burying within the city,* 
of making the funeral fire with planed wood, 
or quenching the fire with wine) Manlius, the 
consul, burnt the body of his son. Numa, by 
special clause of his will, was not burnt, but 
buried ; and Remus was solemnly buried, ac- 
cording to the description of Ovid.f 

Cornelius Sylla was not the first whose body 
was burned in Rome, but of the Cornelian 
family, which being indifferently, not frequent- 
ly, used before, from that time spread, and be- 
came the prevalent practice ; not totally pur- 
sued in the highest run of cremation ; for when 
even crows were funerally burnt, Poppaea, the 
wife of Nero, found a peculiar grave interment. 
Now as all customs were founded upon some 
bottom of reason, so there wanted not grounds 
for this, according to several apprehensions of 
the most rational dissolution. Some, being of 
the opinion of Thales, that water was the ori- 
ginal of all things, thought it most equal to 
submit unto the principle of putrefaction, and 

* 12 Tab. Pars i. de jure sacro. " Hominem mortuum in ui-be 
ue sepelito, neve urito." (Tom. 2.) " Rogum ascia ne polito." 
(Tom. 4.) 

t " Ultima prolato siibdita flamma rogo." 



URN-BURIAL. 287 

conclude in a moist relentment. Others con- 
ceived it most natural to end in fire, as due 
unto the master principle in the composition, 
according to the doctrine of Heraclitus ; and 
therefore heaped up large piles, more actively 
to waft them toward that element, whereby 
they also declined a visible degeneration into 
worms, and left a lasting parcel of their com- 
position. 

Some apprehended a purifying virtue in fire, 
refining the grosser commixture, and firing out 
the ethereal particles so deeply immersed in it ; 
and such as by tradition or rational conjecture 
held any hint of the final pyre of all things, or 
that this element at last must be too hard for 
all the rest, might conceive most naturally of 
the fiery dissolution. Others, pretending no 
natural grounds, politicly declined the malice 
of enemies upon their buried bodies ; which 
consideration led Sylla unto this practice, who 
having thus served the body of Marius, could 
not but fear a retaliation upon his own, enter- 
tained after in the civil wars and revengeful 
contentions of Rome. 

But as many nations embraced, and many 
left it indifferent, so others too much affected 
or strictly declined this practice. The Indian 
Brachmans seemed too great friends unto fire, 
who burnt themselves alive, and thought it the 



1 

288 HYDRIOTAPHIA. | 

noblest way to end their days in fire ; according ■ 
to the expression of the Indian, burning liimself j 
at Athens, in his last words upon the pyre unto \ 
the amazed spectators, " Thus I make myself \ 
immortal." ; 

'^N^ But the Chaldeans, the great idolaters of • 
fire, abhorred the burning of their carcasses, as • 
a pollution of that deity. The Persian Magi ;) 
declined it upon the like scruple, and, being '\ 
only solicitous about their bones, exposed their J 
flesh to the prey of birds and dogs. And the , 
Parsees now in India, which expose their bod- \ 
ies unto vultures, and endure not so much as : 
" feretra " or biers of wood, the proper fuel of 
fire, are led on with such niceties. But wheth- 1 
er the ancient Germans, who burned their dead, | 
held any such fear to pollute their deity of ' 

Herthus, or the earth, we have no authentic i 

1 
conjecture. \ 

The Egyptians were afraid of fire, not as | 

a deity, but a devouring element, mercilessly : 

consuming their bodies, and leaving too little '• 

of them ; and therefore, by precious embalm- \ 

ments, depositurc in dry earths, or handsome i 

enclosure in glasses, contrived the notablest \ 

ways of integral conservation ; and from such ] 

Egyptian scruples, imbibed by Pythagoras, it 

may be conjectured that Numa and the Pytha- 

gorical sect first waved the fiery solution. 



URN-BURIAL. 289 

The Scythians, who swore by wmd and sword, 
that is, by Hfe and death, were so far from burn- 
ing their bodies, that they dechned all inter- 
ment, and made their graves in the air; and 
the Ichthyophagi, or fish-eating nations about 
Egypt, affected the sea for their grave, thereby 
declining visible corruption, and restoring the 
debt of their bodies. Whereas the old heroes 
in Homer dreaded nothing more than water 
or drowning, probably upon the old opinion of 
the fiery substance of the soul, only extinguish- 
able by that element; and therefore the poet 
emphatically implieth the total destruction in 
this kind of death,* which happened to Ajax 
Oileus. 

The old Balearians had a peculiar mode, for 
they used great urns and much wood, but no 
fire, in their burials, while they bruised the flesh 
and bones of the dead, crowded them into urns, 
and laid heaps of wood upon them. And the 
Chinese, without cremation or urnal interment 
of their bodies, make use of trees and much 
burning, while they plant a pine-tree by their 
grave, and burn great numbers of printed 
draughts of slaves and horses over it, civilly 
content with their companies in effigy, which 
barbarous nations exact unto reality. 

Christians abhorred this way of obsequies, 

* Which Magius reads e^oTroXcoXe. 
19 



290 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

I 

and though they sticked not to give their bod- 
ies to be burnt in their hves, detested that 
mode after death ; affecting rather a depositure 
than absumption, and properly submitting unto 
the sentence of God, to return not unto ashes, 
but unto dust again, conformable unto the prac- 
tice of the patriarchs, the interment of our Sav- 
iour, of Peter, Paul, and the ancient martyrs ; 
and so far at last declining promiscuous inter- 
ment with Pagans, that some have suffered ec- 
clesiastical censures* for making no scruple 
thereof. 

The Mussulman believers will never admit 
this fiery resolution ; for they hold a present 
trial from their black and white angels in the 
grave, which they must have made so hollow 
that they may rise upon their knees. 

The Jewish nation, though they entertained 
the old way of inhumation, yet sometimes ad- 
mitted this practice. For the men of Jabesh 
burnt the body of Saul ; and, by no prohibited 
practice, to avoid contagion or pollution in time 
Amosvi.10. of pestllencc, burnt the bodies of their friends. 
And when they burnt not their dead bodies, 
yet sometimes used gi'eat burnings near and 
about them, deducible from the expressions con- 
cerning Jehoram, Zedechiah, and the sumptu- 
ous pyre of Asia; and were so little averse 

* Martialis, the Bishop. Cyprian. 



URN-BURIAL. 291 

from Pagan burning, that the Jew, lamenting 
the death of Caesar, then' friend and revenger 
on Pompey, fr-equented the place where his 
body was burnt, for many nights together. And Sueton. in 
as they raised noble monuments and mauso- c^es. 
leums for their own nation,* so they were not 
scrupulous in erecting some for others, accord- 
ing to the practice of Daniel, who left that last- 
ing sepulchral pile in Ecbatana for the Median 
and Persian kings. f 

But even in times of subjection and hottest 
use they conformed not unto the Roman prac- 
tice of burning ; whereby the prophecy was se- 
cured concerning the body of Christ, that it 
should not see corruption, or a bone should not 
be broken ; which we beheve was also provi- 
dentially prevented, from the soldier's spear 
and nails that past by the little bones both in 
his hands and feet ; not of ordinary contrivance, 
that it should not corrupt on the cross, accord- 
ing to the laws of Roman crucifixion, or a hair 
of his head perish, though observable in Jewish 
customs to cut the hairs of malefactors. 

Nor in their long cohabitation with Egyp- 
tians crept into a custom of their exact embalm- 

*■ As that magnificent sepulchral monument erected by Simon. 
1 Mace. xiii. 27. 

t "KaTatTKivacr^a ^avfxaa-loos TreTTOirjfievov, whereof a Jewish 
priest had always the custody unto Josephus's days. Jos. b. 10, 
Antiq. 



292 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

ing, wherein deeply slashing the muscles, and 
taking out the brains and entrails, they had 
broken the subject of so entire a resurrection, 
nor fully answered the types of Enoch, Elijah, 
or Jonah ; which yet to prevent or restore was 
of equal facility unto that rising power, able to 
break the fasciations and bands of death, to get 
clear out of the cerecloth and a hundred pounds 
of ointment, and out of the sepulchre before the 
stone was rolled from it. 

But though they embraced not this practice 
of burning, yet entertained they many cere- 
monies agreeable unto Greek and Roman ob- 
sequies. And he that observeth their funeral 
feasts, their lamentations at the grave, their 
music, and weeping mourners ; how they closed 
the eyes of their friends ; how they washed, 
anointed, and kissed the dead ; may easily con- 
clude these were not mere Pagan civilities. 
But whether that mournful burthen, and treble 
calling out after Absalom,* had any reference 
unto the last conclamation and triple valedic- 
tion used by other nations, we hold but a wa- 
vering conjecture. 

Civilians make sepulture but of the law of 
nations ; others do naturally found it and dis- 
cover it also in animals. They that are so 
thick-skinned as still to credit the story of the 

* *' Absalom, Absalom, Absalom! " 2 Sam. xviii. 33. 



URN-BURIAL. 



293 



phoenix, may say something for animal burning. 
More serious conjectures find some examples 
of sepulture in elephants, cranes, the sepul- 
chral cells of pismires, and practice of bees ; 
which civil society carrieth out their dead, and 
hath exequies, if not interments. 





CHAPTER II 




HE solemnities, ceremonies, rites of 
their cremation or interment, so 
j:pgj|^gi| solemnly delivered by authors, we 
y^^^^^ shall not disparage our reader to 
repeat. Only the last and lasting part in their 
urns, collected bones and ashes, we cannot 
wholly omit, or decline that subject, which 
occasion lately presented in some discovered 
among us. 

In a field of Old Walsingham, not many 
months past, were digged up between forty and 
fifty urns, deposited in a dry and sandy soil, 
not a yard deep, not far from one another ; not 
all strictly of one figure, but most answering 
these described ; some containing two pounds 
of bones, distinguishable in skulls, ribs, jaws, 
thigh-bones, and teeth, with fresh impressions 
of their combustion ; besides the extraneous 
substances, like pieces of small boxes, or combs, 
handsomely wrought, handles of small brass 



URN-BURIAL. 295 

instruments, brazen nippers, and in one some 
kind of opal. 

Near the same plot of ground, for about six 
yards' compass, were digged up coals and incin- 
erated substances, which begat conjecture that 
this was the Ustrina, or place of burning their 
bodies, or some sacrificing place unto the Manes, 
which was properly below the surface of the 
ground, as the arae and altars unto the gods 
and heroes above it. 

That these were the urns of Romans, from 
the common custom and place where they were 
found, is no obscure conjecture ; not far from 
a Roman garrison, and but five, miles from 
Brancaster, set down by ancient record under 
the name of Brannodunum ; and where the 
adjoining town, containing seven parishes, in no 
very different sound, but Saxon termination, 
still retains the name of Burnham ; which, being 
an early station, it is not improbable the neigh- 
bour parts were filled with habitations, either 
of Romans themselves, or Britons Romanized, 
which observed the Roman customs. 

Nor is it improbable that the Romans early 
possessed this country ; for, though Ave meet not 
with such strict particulars of these parts, be- 
fore the new institution of Constantine, and 
military charge of the Count of the Saxon shore, 
and that about the Saxon invasions, the Dal- 



296 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

matian horsemen were in the garrison of Bran- 
caster ; yet, m the thne of Claudius, Vespasian, 
and Severus, we find no less than three legions 
dispersed through the province of Britain ; and, 
as high as the reign of Claudius, a great over- 
throw was given unto the Iceni, by the Roman 
lieutenant Ostorius. Not long after, the coun- 
try was so molested, that, in hope of a Letter 
state, Prasutagus bequeathed his kingdom un- 
to Nero and liis daughters ; and Boadicea, his 
queen, fought the last decisive battle with Paul- 
linus. After which time and conquest of Agri- 
cola, the lieutenant of Vespasian, probable it is 
they wholly possessed this country, ordering it 
into garrisons or habitations best suitable with 
their securities ; and so some Roman habitations 
not improbable in these parts, as high as the 
timQ of Vespasian, where the Saxons after seat- 
ed, in whose thin-filled maps we yet find the 
name of Walsingham. Now, if the Iceni were 
but Gammadims, Anconlans, or men that lived 
in an angle, wedge, or elbow of Britain, accord- 
ing to the original etymology, this country will 
challenge the emphatical appellation, as most 
properly making the elbow or iken of Icenia, 

That Britain was notably populous, is unde- 
niable, from that expression of Caesar.* That 

* " Hominum infinita multitudo est, creberrimaque gedificia 
fere Gallicis consimilia." — Cses. de Bello Gal., 1. 5. 



URN-BURIAL. 297 

the Romans themselves were early in no small 
numbers, seventy thousand, with their associates, 
slain by Boadicea, affords a sure account. And 
though not many Roman habitations are now 
known, yet some by old works, rampires, coins, 
and urns, do testify their possessions. Some 
urns have been found at Castor, some also about 
Southcreek, and, not many years past, no less 
than ten in a field at Buxton, not near any re- 
corded garrison. Nor is it strange to find Ro- 
man coins of copper and silver among us, of 
Vespasian, Trajan, Adrian, Commodus, Anto- 
ninus, Seveinis, &c. ; but the greater number of 
Diocletian, Constantine, Constans, Valens, with 
many of Victorinus Posthumius, Tetricus, and 
the thirty tyrants in the reign of Gallienus; 
and some as high as Adrianus have been found 
about Thetford, or Sitomagus, mentioned in the 
itinerary of Antoninus, as the way from Venta or 
Castor unto London. But the most frequent dis- 
covery is made at the two Casters, by Norwich 
and Yarmouth, at Burghcastle and Brancaster. 

Besides the Norman, Saxon, and Danish 
pieces of Cuthred, Canutus, Wilham, Matilda, 
and others, some British coins of gold have been 
dispersedly found ; and no small number of 
silver pieces near Norwich, with a rude head 
upon the obverse, and an ill-formed horse on 
the reverse, with these inscriptions, Ic. Duro, T., 



298 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

whether implymg Iceni, Durotriges, Tascia or 
Trinobantes, we leave to higher conjecture. 
Vulgar chronology will have Norwich castle as 
old as Julius Caesar ; but his distance from 
these parts, and its Gothic form of structure, 
abridgeth such antiquity. The British coins 
afford conjecture of early habitation in these 
parts : though the city of Norwich arose from 
the ruins of Venta, and, though perhaps not 
without some habitation before, was enlarged, 
builded, and nominated by the Saxons. In 
what bulk or populosity it stood in the old East- 
Angle monarcliy, tradition and history are si- 
lent. Considerable it was in the Danish erup- 
tions, when Sueno burnt Thetford and Norwich, 
and Ulfketel, the governor thereof, was able 
to make some resistance, and after endeavoured 
to burn the Danish navy. 

How the Romans left so many coins in coun- 
tries of their conquests seems of hard resolu- 
tion, except we consider how they buried them 
under ground, when, upon barbarous invasions, 
they were fain to desert their habitations in 
most part of their empire, and the strictness of 
their laws forbidding to transfer them to any 
Plutarch, other uses ; wherein the Spartans were singu- 
Lycurgus. ^^^^ wlio, to make their copper money useless, 
contempered it with vinegar. That the Britons 
left any, some wonder, since their money was 



URN-BURIAL. 299 

iron and iron rings before Caesar; and those 
of after stamp by permission, and but small in 
bulk and bigness. That so few of the Saxons 
remain, neither need any wonder, because, over- 
come by succeeding conquerors uj^on the place, 
their coins by degrees passed into other stamps, 
and the marks of after ao-es. 

Than the time of these urns deposited, or 
precise antiquity of these relics, nothing is of 
more uncertainty ; for since the lieutenant of 
Claudius seems to have made the first progress 
into these parts, since Boadicea was overthrown 
by the forces of Nero, and Agricola put a full 
end to these conquests, it is not probable the 
country was fully garrisoned or planted before ; 
and therefore, however these urns might be of 
later date, it is not likely they were of higher 
antiquity. 

And the succeeding emperors desisted not 
from their conquests in these and other parts, 
as testified by history and medal inscription yet 
extant; the province of Britain, in so divided 
a distance from Rome, beholding the faces of 
many imperial persons, and in large account 
no fewer than Caesar, Claudius, Britannicus, 
Vespasian, Titus, Adrian, Severus, Commo- 
dus, Geta, and Caracalla. 

A great obscurity herein, because no medal 
or emperor's coin enclosed, which might denote 



300 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

the date of their interments ; — observable in 
stowes many urns, and found in those of Spittle- \ 
London, fields, hj Loudou ; which contained the coins * 
of Claudius, Vespasian, Commodus, Antoninus, j 
attended with lacrymatories, lamps, bottles of : 
liquor, and other appurtenances of affectionate ; 
superstition, which in these rural interments i 
were wanting. ; 

Some uncertainty there is from the period or >, 
term of burning, or the cessation of that prac- j 
tice. Macrobius affirmeth it was disused in ''\ 
his days ; but most agree, though without au- •, 
thentic record, that it ceased with the Anto- \ 
nini, — most safely to be understood after the j 
reign of those emperors who assumed the name 
of Antoninus, extending unto Heliogabalus ; — i 
not strictly after Marcus ; for about fifty years \ 
later we find the magnificent burning and con- i 
secration of Severus ; and if we so fix this pe- \ 
riod of cessation, these urns will challenge above \ 
thirteen hundred years. i 

But whether this practice was only then left j 
by emperors and great persons, or generally i 
about Rome, and not in other provinces, we \ 
hold no authentic account. For after Tertul- • 
lian, in the days of Minucius, it was obviously i 
objected upon Christians, that they condemned ; 
the practice of burning.* And we find a pas- | 

* " Execrantur rogos, et damnant ignium sepulturam." ^ 

i 

\ 
\ 



URN-BURIAL. 301 

sage in Sidonius, wliich asserteth that practice 
in France unto a lower account ; and perhaps 
not fully disused till Christianity was fully es- 
tablished, which gave the final extinction to 
these sepulchral bonfires. 

Whether they were the bones of men, or 
women, or children, no authentic decision from 
ancient custom in distinct places of burial ; 
although not improbably conjectured, that the 
double sepulture, or burying-place of Abra- 
ham,* had in it such intention. But from 
exility of bones, thinness of skulls, smallness 
of teeth, ribs, and thigh-bones, not improbable 
that many thereof were persons of minor age, 
or women ; confirmable also from things con- 
tained in them. In most were found sub- 
stances resembling combs, plates like boxes, 
fastened with iron pins, and handsomely over- 
wrouo-ht like the necks or brido;es of musical 
instruments, long brass plates overwrought like 
the handles of neat implements, brazen nip- 
pers to pull away hair, and in one a kind of 
opal yet maintaining a bluish color. 

Now that they accustomed to burn or bury 
with them things wherein they excelled, de- 
lighted, or which were dear unto them, either 
as farewells unto all pleasure, or vain appre- 

* Gen. xxiii. In the cave of a field called Hebron, in the land 
of Canaan. 



502 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 



hension that they might use them in the other 
world, is testified by all antiquity ; — observa- 
ble from the gem or beryl ring upon the finger 
of Cynthia, the mistress of Propertius, Avhen 
after her funeral pyre her ghost appeared unto 
him ; — and notably illustrated from the con- 
tents of that Roman urn preserved by Cardinal 
Farnese, wherein, besides great number of gems 
with heads of gods and goddesses, were found 
an ape of agate, a grasshopper, an elephant of 
amber, a crystal ball, three glasses, two spoons, 
and six nuts of crystal. And beyond the con- 
tent of urns, in the monument of Childeric the 
First, and fourth king from Pharamond, casu- 
ally discovered three years past at Tournay, 
restoring unto the world much gold richly 
adorning his sword, two hundred rubies, many 
hundred imperial coins, three hundred golden 
bees, the bones and horse-shoes of his horse 
interred with him, according to the barbarous 
magnificence of those days in their sepulchral 
obsequies. Although if we steer by the con- 
jecture of many, and Septuagint expression, 
some trace thereof may be found even with 
the ancient Hebrews, not only fi'om the sepul- 
chral treasure of David, but the circumcision 
knives which Joshua also buried. 

Some men, considering the contents of these 
urns, lasting pieces and toys included in them, 



I 



URN-BURIAL. 303 

and the custom of burning with many other 
nations, might somewhat doubt whether all urns 
found among us were properly Roman relics, 
or some not belonging unto our British, Saxon, 
or Danish forefathers. 

Of the form of burial amonoj the ancient 
Britons, the large discourses of Csesar, Taci- 
tus, and Strabo are silent. For the discovery 
Avhereof, with other particulars, we much de- 
plore the loss of that letter which Cicero ex- 
pected or received from his brother Quintus, 
as a resolution of British customs ; or the ac- 
count which might have been made by Scribo- 
nius Largus, the physician accompanying the 
Emperor Claudius, who might have also dis- 
covered that frugal bit of the old Britons, which 
in the bigness of a bean could satisfy their thirst 
and hunger. 

But that the Druids and ruling priests used 
to burn and bury, is expressed by Pomponius. 
That Bellinus, the brother of Brennus, and king 
of the Britons, was burnt, is acknowledged by 
Polydorus, as also by Amandus Zierexensis in 
Historia, and Pineda in his Universa Historia 
(Spanish). That they held that practice in 
Gallia, Caesar expressly delivereth. Whether 
the Britons (probably descended from them, of 
like religion, language, and manners) did not 
sometimes make use of burning ; or whether at 



304 HYDRIOTAPHIA. | 

least such as were after civilized unto the Ro- 
man life and manners, conformed not unto tliis 
practice, we have no historical assertion or de- 
nial. But smce, from the account of Tacitus, 
the Romans early wrought so much civility 
upon the British stock, that they brought them 
to build temples, to wear the gown, and study 
the Roman laws and language ; that they con- 
formed also unto their religious rites and cus- 
toms in burials, seems no improbable conjec- 
ture. 

That burning the dead was used in Sarmatia 
is affirmed by Gaguinus ; that the Sueons and 
Gothlanders used to burn their princes and 
great persons is dehvered by Saxo and Olaus; 
that this was the old German practice, is also 
asserted by Tacitus. And though we are bare 
in historical particulars of such obsequies in this 
island, or that the Saxons, Jutes, and Angles 
burnt their dead, yet came they from parts 
where it was of ancient practice ; the Germans 
using it, from whom they were descended. And 
even in Jutland and Sleswick in Anglia Cym- 
brica, urns with bones Avere found not many I 
years before us. ;| 

But the Danish and Northern nations have ; 
raised an era or point of compute from their 
custom of burning their dead; some deriving 
it fr'om Unguinus, some from Frotho the Great, 



URN-BURIAL. 305 

who ordained by law that princes and chief 
commanders should be committed mito the fire, 
though the common sort had the common grave- 
interment. So Starkatterus, that old hero, was 
burnt; and Ringo royally burnt the body of 
Harold, the king slain by him. 

What time this custom generally expired in 
that nation, we discern no assured period; 
whether it ceased before Christianity, or upon 
their conversion by Ausgurius the Gaul, in the 
time of Ludovicus Pius, the son of Charles the 
Great, according to good computes ; or whether 
it might not be used by some persons, while 
for a hundred and eighty years Paganism 
and Christianity were promiscuously embraced 
among them, there is no assured conclusion. 
About which times the Danes were busy in 
England, and particularly infested this country ; 
where many castles and strong-holds were built 
by them or against them, and great numbers 
of names and families still derived from them. 
But since this custom was probably disused be- 
fore their invasion or conquest, and the Romans 
confessedly practised the same since their pos- 
session of this island, the most assured account 
will fall upon the Romans, or Britons Roman- 
ized. 

VHowever, certain it is that urns, conceived 
of no Roman original, are often digged up both 
20 



306 HYDRIOTAPHIA. '. 

in Norway and Denmark, handsomely described 
and graphically represented by the learned phy- 
sician Wormius ; and in some parts of Denmark 
in no ordinary number, as stands delivered by 
authors exactly describing those countries. And 
they contained not only bones, but many other 
substances in them, as knives, pieces of iron, 
brass, and wood, and one of Norway a brass 
gilded jews-harp. 

Nor were they confused or careless in dis- 
posing the noblest sort, wdiile they placed large 
stones in circle about the urns or bodies which 
they interred, somewhat answerable unto the 
monument of RoUrich stones in England, or 
sepulchral monument probably erected by Rol- 
lo, who after conquered Normandy, where it 
is not improbable somewhat might be discov- 
ered. Meanwhile, to what nation or person 
belonged that large urn found at Ashbury, con- 
taining mighty bones and a buckler ; what those 
large urns found at Little Massingham ; or why 
the Anglesea urns arc placed with their mouths 
downward, remains yet undiscovered. 




CHAPTER III. 




^LASTERED and wliited sepulchres 
were anciently affected in cadaver- 
ous and corruptive burials ; and tlie 
rimd Jews were wont to ejarnisli st.Matt. 

c5 o xxiii. 

the sepulchres of the righteous. Ulysses, in 
Hecuba, cared not how meanly he lived, so he 
mio-ht find a noble tomb after death. Great 
princes affected great monuments ; and the fair 
and larger urns contained no vulgar ashes, 
which makes that disparity in those which 
time discovereth among us. The present urns 
were not of one capacity ; the largest contain- 
ing above a gallon ; some not much above half 
that measure. Nor all of one figure, wherein 
there is no strict conformity in the same or 
different countries ; observable from those rep- 
resented by Casalius, Bosio, and others, though 
all found in Italy ; while many have handles, 
ears, and long necks, but most imitate a cir- 
cular figure, in a spherical and round com- 



308 HYDRIOTAPHIA, 1 

posure ; whether from any mjsteiy, best dura- j 
tion, or capacity, were but a conjecture. But i 
the common form with necks was a proper | 
figure, making our last bed hke our first ; not ' 
much unhke the urns of our nativity, while ! 
Ps. cxxxix. " we lay in the nether part of the earth," i 
and inward vault of our microcosm. Llany j 
urns are red, these but of a black color, some- \ 
what smooth, and dully sounding, which be- ; 
gat some doubt whether they were burnt, or | 
only baken in oven or sun, according to the | 
ancient Avay, in many bricks, tiles, pots, and j 
testaceous works ; as the word " testa " is prop- 
erly to be taken, when occuring without addi- j 
tion, and chiefly intended by Pliny when he i 
commendeth bricks and tiles of two years old, j 
and to make them in the spring. Nor only ] 
these concealed pieces, but the open magnifi- j 
cence of antiquity, ran much in the artifice \ 
of clay. Hereof the house of Mausolus was j 
built ; thus old Jupiter stood in the Capitol ; j 
and the statue of Hercules, made in the reign 1 
of Tarquinius Priscus, was extant in Pliny's i 
days. And such as declined burning or fu- j 
neral urns, affected coffins of clay, according : 
to the mode of Pythagoras, a way preferred \ 
by Varro. But the spirit of great ones was ' 
above these circumscriptions, affecting copper, : 
silver, gold, and porphyry urns, wherein Seve- | 



URN-BURIAL. 309 

rus lay, after a serious view and sentence on 
that which should contain him. Some of these 
urns were thought to have been silvered over 
from sparklings in several pots, with small tin- 
sel parcels, uncertain whether from the earth 
or the first mixture in them. 

Among these urns we could obtain no good 
account of their coverings ; only one seemed 
arched over with some kind of brick-work. 
Of those found at Buxton, some were covered 
with flints ; some in other parts with tiles ; 
those at Yarmouth- Caster were closed with 
Roman bricks ; and some have proper earth- 
en covers adapted and fitted to them. But 
in the Homerical urn of Patroclus, whatever 
was the solid tegument, we find the immediate 
covering to be a purple piece of silk. And 
such as had no covers might have the earth 
closely pressed into them ; after which dis- 
posure were probably some of these, wherein 
we found the bones and ashes half mortared 
unto the sand and sides of the urn, and some 
long roots of quich, or dog's-grass, wreathed 
about the bones. 

No lamps, included liquors, lachrymatories, or 
tear-bottles attended these rural urns, either as 
sacred unto the Manes, or passionate expres- 
sions of their surviving friends ; while with 
rich flames and hired tears they solemnized 



310 HYDRIOTAPHIA. \ 

Cum tlieir obsequies, and in the most lamented i 
posuire. monuments made one part of tlieir inscrip- ( 
tions. Some find sepulchral vessels containing ! 
liquors which time hath incrassated into jel- i 
lies. For besides these lachrymatories, nota- ' 
ble lamps, with vessels of oils and aromatical 
liquors, attended noble ossuaries, and some yet ] 
retaining a vinosity and spirit in them ; which \ 
if any have tasted, they have far exceeded the I 
palates of antiquity ; liquors not to be com- i 
puted by years of annual magistrates, but by I 
great conjunctions and the fatal periods of king- 
doms.* The draughts of consulary date were ' 
but crude unto these, and Opimian f wine but ; 
in the must unto them. . j 

In sundry graves and sepulchres we meet ' 
with rings, coins, and chalices. Ancient frugal- ' 
ity was so severe, that they allowed no gold to j 
attend the corpses, but only that which served ] 
to flisten their teeth. J Whether the ojmline i 
stone in this urn were burnt upon the finger 
of the dead, or cast into the fire by some 
affectionate friend, it will consist with either ' 
custom. But other incinerable substances were i 

found so fresh, that they could feel no singe \ 

\ 

* About 500 years. Plato. i 

t " Vinura Opiminianum annonim centum." Petron. ' 

J 12 Tabul. 1. xi. dejure sacro. " Neve aurum addito; ast quo \ 

auro deutes viucti eioint, imo cum illo sepelire et urere, ne fraudi 

esto." 



URN-BURIAL, 311 

from fire. These upon view were judged to 
be wood ; but sinking in water, and tried by 
the fire, we found them to be bone or ivory. 
In their hardness and yellow color, they most 
resembled box, which, in old expressions, found 
the epithet* of eternal, and perhaps, in such 
conservatories, might have passed uncorrupted. 
iThat bay-leaves were found green in the 
tomb of St. Humbert, after a hundred and fifty 
years, was looked upon as miraculous. Ke- 
markable it was unto old spectators, that the 
cypress of the temple of Diana lasted so many 
hundred years. The wood of the ark and olive 
rod of Aaron were older at the Captivity. But 
the c^'press of the ark of Noah was the greatest 
vegetable antiquity, if Josephus were not de- 
ceived by some fragments of it in his days ; — 
to omit the moor-logs and fir-trees, found under 
ground in many parts of England ; the undated 
ruins of winds, floods, and earthquakes ; and 
which, in Flanders, still show from what quar- 
ter they fell, as generally lying in a northeast 
position. 

But though we found not these pieces to be 
wood, according to first apprehension, yet we 
missed not altogether of some woody substance ; 
for the bones were not so clearly picked, but 
some coals were found amongst them ; — a way 

* Plin. lib. xvi. " Inter ^v\a aa-airri numerat Theophrastus." 



312 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

to make wood perpetual, and a fit associate for 
metal, whereon was laid tlie foundation of the 
great Ephesian temple, and which were made 
the lasting tests of old boundaries and land- 
marks. Whilst Ave look on these, we admire 
not observations of coals found fresh after four 
hundred years. In a long deserted habitation, 
even eors-shells have been found fresh, not tend- 
ing to corruption. 

In the monument of King Childeric, the 
ii'on relics were found all rusty and crumbling 
into pieces. But our little iron pins, which 
fastened the ivory works, held well together, 
and lost not their magnetical quality, though 
wantincr a tenacious moisture for the firmer 
union of parts. Although it be hardly drawn 
into fusion, yet that metal soon submitteth unto 
rust and dissolution. In the brazen pieces we 
admired not the duration, but the freedom from 
rust and ill savor upon the hardest attrition: 
but now exposed unto the piercing atoms of 
air, in the space of a few months they begin to 
spot and betray their green entrails. We con- 
ceive not these urns to have descended thus 
naked as they appear, or to have entered their 
graves without the old habit of flowers. The 
urn of Philopoemen was so laden with flowers 
and ribbons, that it afforded no sight of itself. 
The rigid Lycurgus allowed olive and myrtle. 



URN-BURIAL. 313 

The Athenians might fairly except against the 
practice of Democritus, to be buried up in hon- 
ey ; as fearing to embezzle a great commodity 
of their country, and the best of that kind 
in Europe. But Plato seemed too frugally 
politic, who allowed no larger monument than 
would contain four heroic verses, and designed 
the most barren ground for sepulture ; though 
we cannot commend the goodness of that se- 
pulchral ground which was set at no higher rate 
than the mean salary of Judas. Though the 
earth had confounded the ashes of these ossua- 
ries, yet the bones were so smartly burnt, that 
some thin plates of brass were found half melt- 
ed among them ; whereby we apprehend, they 
were not of the meanest carcasses, perfunctorily 
fired, as sometimes in military, and commonly 
in pestilence burnings, or after the manner 
of abject corpses, huddled forth and carelessly 
burnt, without the Esquiline Port at Rome ; 
wdiich was an affront continued upon Tiberius, 
while they but half burnt his body, and in the 
amphitheatre, according to the custom in notable 
malefactors ; whereas Nero seemed not so much 
to fear his death, as that his head should be cut 
off, and his body not burnt entire. 

Some, finding many fragments of skulls in 
these urns, suspected a mixture of bones. In 
none we searched was there cause of such con- 



314 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

jecture, though sometimes they dedinecl not 
that practice. The ashes of Domitian were 
mingled with those of JuUa, of Achilles with 
those of Patroclus. All urns contained not 
single ashes. Without confused burnings, they 
effectually compounded their hones, passionately 
endeavourino; to continue their livino; unions ; 
and when distance of death denied such con- 
junctions, unsatisfied affections conceived some 
satisfaction to be neighbours in the grave, to lie 
urn by urn, and touch but in their names. And 
many were so curious to continue their living 
relations, that they contrived large and family 
urns, wherein the ashes of their nearest friends 
and kindred might successively be received, at 
least some parcels thereof, while their collateral 
memorials lay in minor vessels about them. 

Antiquity held too light thoughts from objects 
of mortality, while some drew provocatives of 
mirth from anatomies,* and jugglers showed 
tricks with skeletons ; when fiddlers made not 
so pleasant mirth as fencers, and men could sit 
with quiet stomachs while hanging was played 
before them.f Old considerations made few 

* Sic erimus cuncii, cfc. £rffO, dum vivimus, vivamtis. 

t 'Ayxovrju Tval^eiv. A barbarous pastime at feasts, when 
men stood upon a rolling globe, Avith their necks in a rope, and a 
knife in their hands, ready to cut it Avhen the stone Avas rolled 
away, wherein if they failed, they lost their lives, to the laughter 
of the spectators. Athenseus. 



URN-BURIAL, 315 

mementos by skulls and bones upon their mon- 
uments. In the Egyptian obelisks and hiero- 
glyphical figures, it is not easy to meet with 
bones. The sepulchral lamps speak nothing 
less than sepulture, and in their literal draughts 
prove often obscene and antic pieces. Where 
we find D. M. it is obvious to meet with sacri- DiisMani- 
ficing " pateras," and vessels of libation, upon old 
sepulchral monuments. In the Jewish Hypo- 
gseum and subterranean cell at Rome was little 
observable beside the variety of lamps, and fre- 
quent draughts of the holy candlestick. In 
authentic draughts of Antony and Jerome, we 
meet with thigh-bones, and death's-heads ; but 
the cemeterial cells of ancient Christians and 
martyrs Avere filled with draughts of Scripture 
stories ; not declining the flourishes of cypress, 
palms, and olive, and the mystical figures of 
peacocks, doves, and cocks ; but iterately af- 
fecting the portraits of Enoch, Lazarus, Jonas, 
and the vision of Ezekiel, as hopeful draughts 
and hinting imagery of the resurrection, — which 
is the life of the grave and sweetens our habita- 
tions in the land of moles and pismires. 

Gentile inscriptions precisely delivered the 
extent of men's lives, seldom the manner of 
their deaths, which history itself so often leaves 
obscure in the records of memorable persons. 
There is scarce any philosopher but dies twice 



316 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

or tlirlce in Laertius ; nor almost any life with- 
out two or three deaths in Plutarch; which 
makes the tragical ends of noble persons more 
favorably resented by compassionate readers, 
who find some relief in the election of such 
differences. 

The certainty of death is attended with un- 
certainties, in time, manner, places. The va- 
riety of monuments hath often obscured true 
graves, and cenotaphs confounded sepulchres. 
For beside their real tombs, many have found 
honorary and empty sepulchres. The variety 
of Homer's monuments made him of various 
countries. Euripides had his tomb in Africa, 
but Ills sepulture in Macedonia. And Severus 
found his real sepulture in Rome, but his empty 
grave in Gallia. 
Trajanus. He tluit lay iu a golden urn eminently above 
the earth, was not like to find the quiet of these 
bones. Many of these urns were broke by 
a vulgar discoverer in hope of enclosed treas- 
ure. The ashes of Marcellus were lost above 
ground upon the like account. Where profit 
hath prompted, no age hath wanted such min- 
ers ; for which the most barbarous expilators 
found the most civil rhetoric. Gold once out , 
of the earth is no more due unto it. What 
was unreasonably committed to the ground, is 
reasonably resumed from it. Let monuments 



Dion 



URN-BURIAL. 317 

and rich fabrics, not riches, adorn men's ashes. 
The commerce of the hving is not to be trans- 
ferred unto the dead. It is not injustice to 
take that which none complains to lose, and 
no man is wronged where no man is possessor.* 

What virtue yet sleeps in this " terra dam- 
nata " and aged cinders, were petty magic to 
experiment. These crumbling relics and long- 
fired particles superannuate such expectations. 
Bones, hairs, nails, and teeth of the dead, were 
the treasures of old sorcerers. In vain we re- 
vive such practices ; present superstition too 
visibly perpetuates the folly of our forefathers, 
wherein unto old observation this island was 
so complete, that it might have instructed Per- 
sia, f 

Plato's historian of the other world lies twelve 
days uncorrupted, while his soul was viewing 
the large stations of the dead. How to keep 
the corpse seven days from corruption, by 
anointing and washing, without exenteration, 
were a hazardable piece of art in our choicest 
practice. How they made distinct separation 
of bones and ashes from fiery admixture, hath 
found no historical solution ; though they seemed 

* The commission of the Gothic King Tlieodoric, for finding 
out sepulchral treasure. Cassiodor. Var. lib. 4. 

t " Britannia hodie eam attonite celebrat tantis ceremoniis, ut 
dedisse Persis videri possit." — Plin. lib. 30. 



318 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

to make a distinct collection, and overlooked 
not Pyrrlius's toe.* Some provision they might 
make by fictile vessels, coverings, tiles, or flat 
stones upon and about the body, (and in the 
same field, not far from those urns, many stones 
were found tmder ground,) as also by careful 
separation of extraneous matter, comj)osing and 
raking up the burnt bones with forks, — observ- 
able in that notable lump of Galvanus Martia- 
nus, who had the sight of the " vas ustrmum," 
or vessel wherein they burnt the dead, found 
in the Esquihne field at Rome, might have af- 
forded clearer solution. But their insatisfac- 
tion herein begat that remarkable invention in 
the funeral pyres of some princes, by incom- 
bustible sheets made Avith a texture of asbes- 
tos, incremable flax, or salamander's wool, 
which preserved their bones and ashes incom- 
mixed. 

How the bulk of man should sink into so few 
pounds of bones and ashes, may seem strange 
unto any who considers not its constitution, 
and how slender a mass will remain upon an 
open and urging fire of the carnal composition. 
Even bones themselves, reduced into ashes, do 
abate a notable proportion ; and consisting much 
of a volatile salt, when that is fired out, make 
a light kind of cinders; although their bulk 

* Which could not be burnt. 



URN-BURIAL. 319 

be disproportionable to their weight, when the 
heavy principle of salt is fired out, and the 
earth almost only remaineth ; — observable in 
sallow, Avhich makes more ashes than oak, and 
discovers the common fraud of selling ashes by 
measure, and not by ponderation. 

Some bones make best skeletons, some bodies oi<i^o^«3, 

according 

quick and speediest ashes.* Who .would ex- toLyserus. 
pect a quick flame from hydropical Heraclitus ? 
The poisoned soldier, when his belly brake, put 
out two pyres, in Plutarch. But in the plague 
of Athens, one private pyre served two or three 
intruders ; and the Saracens, burnt in large 
heaps by the king of Castile, show how little 
fuel sufficeth. Though the funeral ^jvq of Pa- 
troclus took up a hundred feet,f a piece of an 
old boat burnt Pompey ; and if the burthen of 
Isaac were sufficient for a holocaust, a man may 
carry his own pyre. 

From animals are drawn good burning lights, 
and good medicines against burning. Though 
the seminal humor seems of a contrary nature 
to fire, yet the body completed proves a com- 
bustible lump, wherein fire finds flame even 
from bones, and some fuel almost from all 
parts ; though the metropolis of humidity % 

* Those of young persons not tall nor fat, according to Co- 
lumbus. 

t 'EKaTd/iTreSoi/ %vBa kclL €v6a. 
X The brain. Hippocrates. 



320 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

seems least disposed unto it, wliicli might ren-J 
der the skulls of these urns less burned thai 
other bones. But all flies or sinks before fire' 
almost in all bodies. When the common liga- 
ment is dissolved, the attenuable parts ascend; 
the rest subside in coal, calx, or ashes. 

To burn the bones of the king of Edom for 
lime (Amos ii. 1) seems no irrational ferity; 
but to drink of the ashes of dead relations,* a 
passionate prodigality. He that hath the ashes 
of his friend, hath an everlasting treasure. 
Where fire taketh leave, corruption slowly en- 
ters. In bones well burnt, fire makes a wall 
against itself, experimented in copels and tests 
of metals, which consist of such ingredients. 
What the sun compoundeth, fire analyzeth, not 
transmuteth. That devourino; ao;ent leaves al- 
most always a morsel for the earth, whereof all 
things are but a colony, and which, if time per- 
mits, the mother element will have in their 
primitive mass again. 

He that looks for urns and old sepulchral rel- 
ics, must not seek them in the ruins of temples, 
where no religion anciently placed them. These 
were found in a field, according to ancient cus- 
tom, in noble or private burial ; the old practice 
of the Canaanites, the family of Abraham, and 
the burying-place of Joshua, in the borders of 

* As Artemisia of her husband, Mausolus. 



URN-BURIAL. 321 

his possessions ; and also agreeable unto Roman 
practice to bury by highways, whereby their 
monuments were under eye, memorials of them- 
selves and mementos of mortality unto living 
passengers ; whom the epitaphs of great ones 
were fain to beg to stay and look upon them, — 
a languao-e, thouo;h sometimes used, not so 
proper in church inscriptions. The sensible 
rhetoric of the dead, to exemplarity of good 
life, first admitted the bones of pious men and 
martyrs within church walls, which, in suc- 
ceeding ages, crept into promiscuous practice. 
While Constantino was peculiarly favored to be 
admitted unto the church porch ; and the first 
thus buried in England was in the days of 
Cuthred. 

fChristians dispute how their bodies should lie 
in the grave. In urnal interment they clearly 
escaped this controversy. Though Ave decline 
the religious consideration, yet in cemeterial 
and narrower burymg-places, to avoid confusion 
and cross position, a certain posture were to be 
admitted; which even Pagan civility observed. 
The Persians lay north and south ; the Mega- 
rians and Phoenicians placed their heads to the 
east ; the Athenians, some think, towards the 
west, which Christians still retain ; and Beda 
will have it to be the posture of our Saviojir. 
That he was crucified with his face towards the 
21 



Siste, 
viator. 



322 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 



west, we Avill not contend with tradition and 
probable account ; but we applaud not the hand 
of the painter in exalting his cross so high above 
those on either side, since hereof we find no 
authentic account in history, and even the 
crosses found by Helena pretend no such dis- 
tinction from longitude or dimension. 

To be knaved out of our graves, to have 
our skulls made drinking-bowls, and our bones 
turned into pipes, to delight and sport our ene- 
mies, are tragical abominations escaped in burn- 
ing buriaJs. 

Urnal interments and burnt relics lie not in 
fear of worms, or to be a heritage for serpents. 
In carnal sepulture conniptions seem peculiar 
unto parts, and some speak of snakes out of the 
spinal marrow. But while we suppose common 
worms in graves, 't is not easy to find any 
there ; few in churchyards above a foot deep ; 
fewer, or none, in chm-ches, though in fresh 
decayed bodies. Teeth, bones, and hair, give 
the most lasting defiance to corruption. 

In a hydropical body, ten years buried in a 
church-yard, we met with a fat concretion, 
where the nitre of the earth, and the salt and 
lixivious liquor of the body, had coagulated 
large lumps of fat into the consistence of the 
hardest Castile soap ; whereof part remaineth 
with us. 






URN-BURIAL. 323 

After a battle with the Persians, the Roman 
corpses decayed in a few days, while the Per- 
sian bodies remained dry and uncorrupted. 

Bodies in the same ground do not uniformly 
dissolve, nor bones equally moulder ; whereof, 
in the opprobrious disease, we expect no long 
duration. 

The body of the Marquis of Dorset seemed 
sound and handsomely cereclothed, that after 
seventy-eight years was found uncorrupted.* 
Common tombs preserve not beyond powder. 
A firmer consistence and compage of parts 
might be expected from arefaction, deep burial, 
or charcoal. The greatest antiquities of mortal 
bodies may remain in petrified bones, where- 
of, though we take not in the pillar of Lot's 
wife, or metamorphosis of Ortelius,f some may 
be older than pyramids, in the petrified relics 
of the general inundation. When Alexander 
opened the tomb of Cyrus, the remaining bones 
discovered his proportion, whereof urnal frag- 
ments afford but a bad conjucture, and have 
this disadvantage of grave-interments, that they 
leave us ignorant of most personal discoveries. 

. * Of Thomas, Marquis of Dorset, whose body being buried, 
1530, was, 1608, upon the cutting open of the cerecloth, found 
perfect, and nothing corrupted, the flesh not hardened, but in 
color, proportion, and softness like an ordinary corpse, newly to 
be interred. See Burton's Description of Leicestershire. 
t In his Map of Kussia. 



324 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

For since bones afford not only rectitude and 
stability, but figure unto the body, it is no im- 
possible physiognomy to conjecture at fleshy 
appendencies, and after what shape the mus- 
cles and carnous parts might hang in their full 
consistencies. A full spread cariola* shows 
a well-shaped horse behind ; handsome-formed 
skulls give some analogy of fleshly resemblance. 
A critical view of bones makes a good dis- 
tinction of sexes. Even color is not beyond 
conjecture ; since it is hard to be deceived 
in the distinction of negroes' skulls. f Dante's 
characters are to be found in skulls as well as 
faces, if Hercules is not only known by his 
foot ; other parts make out their comproportions 
and inferences upon whole or parts. And since 
the dimensions of the head measure the whole 
body, and the figure thereof gives conjecture 
of the principal faculties, physiognomy outlives 
ourselves, and ends not in our graves. 

* That part next the haunch-bones. 
t For their extraordinary thickness. 

X The poet Dante, in his view of Purgatory, found gluttons so 
meagre and extenuated, that he conceited them to have been in 
the siege of Jerusalem, and that it was easy to have discovered 
Homo or Omo in their faces ; M being made by the tAvo lines of 
their cheeks, arching over the eyebrows to the nose, and their 
sunk eyes making 0, which makes up Omo. 

" Parean 1' occhiaje anella senza gemme: 
Chi nel viso degli uomini legge o m o, 
Ben avria quivi conosciuto 1' emme." 

Purg. xxiii. 31. 



URN-BURIAL. 325 

Severe contemplators observing these lasting 
relics, may think them good monuments of per- 
sons past, little advantage to future beings ; 
and, considering that power which subdueth all 
things unto itself, that can resume the scattered 
atoms, or identify out of anything, conceive it su- 
perfluous to expect a resurrection out of relics. 
But the soul subsisting, other matter, clothed 
with due accidents, may salve the individuality. 
Yet the saints, we observe, arose from graves 
and monuments about the holy city. Some 
think the ancient patriarchs so earnestly de- 
sired to lay their bones in Canaan, as hoping 
to make a part of that resurrection, and, though 
thirty miles from Mount Calvary, at least to lie 
in that region Avhich should produce the first- 
fruits of the dead. And if, according to learn- 
ed conjecture, the bodies of men shall rise 
where their greatest relics remain, many are 
not like to err in the topography of their resur- 
rection, though their bones or bodies be after 
translated by angels into the field of Ezekiel's 
vision, or, as some will order it, into the Valley 
of Judgment, or Jehosaphat. 



N. 



CHAPTER IV. 




HRISTIANS have haiidsomelj 
glossed tlie deformity of death, by 
Mi careful consideration of the body, 
and civil rites, which take off brutal 
terminations ; and, though they conceived all 
reparable by a resurrection, cast not oif all care 
of interment. And since the ashes of sacrifices 
burnt upon the altar of God were carefully 
carried out by the priest, and deposed in a 
clean field ; since they acknowledged their bod- 
ies to be the lodging of Christ and temples 
of the Holy Ghost, they devolved not all upon 
the sufficiency of soul existence ; and therefore 
with long services and full solemnities concluded 
their last exequies, wherein, to all distinctions, 
the Greek devotion seems most pathetically 
ceremonious. 

Christian invention hath chiefly driven at 
rites which speak hopes of another life, and 
hints of a resurrection. And if the ancient 



URN-BURIAL. 327 

Gentiles held not the immortality of their bet- 
ter part, and some subsistence after death, in 
several rites, customs, actions, and expressions, 
they contradicted their own opinions ; wherein 
Democritus went high, even to the thought of 
a resurrection, as scoffingly recorded by Pliny.* 
What can be more express than the expression 
of Phocyllides ? f or who could expect from Lu- 
cretius :j: a sentence of Ecclesiastes ? Before 
Plato could speak, the soul had wings in Ho- 
mer, which fell not, but flew out of the body 
into the mansions of the dead; who also ob- 
served that handsome distinction of Demas and 
Soma, for the body conjoined to the soul, and 
body separated from it. Lucian spoke much 
truth in jest, when he said, that part of Her- 
cules which proceeded from Alcmena perished, 
that from Jupiter remained immortal. Thus 
Socrates was content that his friends should 
bury his body, so they would not think they 
buried Socrates, and, regarding only his immor- 
tal part, was indifferent to be burnt or buried. 
From such considerations Diogenes might con- 

* " Similis reviviscendi promissa Democrito vanitas, qui non 
revixit ipse. Qu£B, malum, ista dementia est, iterari vitam 
morte ! " — Plin. lib. 7, c. 56. 

t Kal Td-)(a S' €< yairjs iKiri^ofxev es <pdos iXOciv 

Aei-^av aTToixofievcoVi K. r. X. 
} " Cedit enim retro de terra quod fuit ante 
lu terram," &c. 



328 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

demn sepulture, and, being satisfied that his soul 
could not perish, grow careless of corporal in- 
terment. The Stoics, who thought the souls of 
wise men had their habitation about the moon, 
miofht make slight account of subterraneous de- 
position ; whereas the Pythagoreans and trans- 
corporating philosophers, who were to be often 
buried, held great care of their interment. And 
the Platonics rejected not a due care of the 
grave, though they put their ashes to unreason- 
able expectations, in their tedious term of return 
and long-set revolution. 

Men have lost their reason in nothincr so 
much as their religion, wherein stones and clouts 
make martyrs ; and since the religion of one 
seems madness unto another, to afford an ac- 
count or rational of old rites, requires no rigid 
reader. That they kindled the pyre aversely, 
or turning their face from it, was a handsome 
symbol of unwilhng ministration. That they 
washed their bones with wine and milk ; that 
the mother wrapped them in linen, and dried 
them in her bosom, the first fostering part and 
place of their nourishment; that they opened 
their eyes towards heaven before they kindled 
the fire, as the place of their hopes or original, 
were no improper ceremonies. Their last vale- 
diction, thrice uttered by the attendants,* was 

* " Vale, vale, vale ; nos te ordine, quo natura penriittet, se- 
quemur." 



URN-BURIAL. 329 

also very solemn, and somewhat answered by 
Christians, who thought it too little, if they 
threw not the earth thrice upon the interred 
body. That in strewing their tombs, the Ro- 
mans affected the rose, the Greeks amaranthus 
and myrtle; that the funeral pyre consisted of 
sweet fuel, cypress, fir, larix, yew, and trees 
perpetually verdant, lay silent expressions of 
their surviving hopes. Wherein Christians, who 
deck their coffins with bays, have found a more 
elegant emblem; for that tree seeming dead, 
will restore itself fi'om the root, and its dry and 
exsuccous leaves resume their verdure again ; 
which, if we mistake not, we have also observed 
in furze. Whether the planting of yew in 
churchyards holds not its original from ancient 
funeral rites, or as an emblem of resurrection 
from its perpetual verdure, may also admit con- 
jecture. 

They made use of music to excite or quiet 
the affections of their friends, according to dif- 
ferent harmonies. But the secret and symbol- 
ical hint was the harmonical nature of the soul, 
which, delivered from the body, went again to 
enjoy the primitive harmony of heaven, from 
whence it first descended ; which, according to 
its progress traced by antiquity, came down by 
Cancer, and ascended by Capricomus. 

They burnt not children before their teeth 



330 HYDRIOTAPHIA. j 

\ 

appeared, as apprehending their bodies too ten- \ 
der a morsel for fire, and that their gristly 
bones would scarce leave separable relics after 
the pyral combustion. That they kindled not ; 
fire in their houses for some days after, was 
a strict memorial of the late afflicting fire, j 
And mourning without hope, they had a hap- j 
jDy fraud against excessive lamentation, by a | 
common opinion that deep sorrows disturbed i 
their o-hosts.* I 

That they buried their dead on their backs, j 
or in a supine position, seems agreeable unto 1 
profound sleep and common posture of dying, \ 
contrary to the most natural way of birth, nor : 
unlike our pendulous posture in the doubtfnl : 
state of the womb. Dioojenes was sino-ular, 
who preferred a prone situation in the grave; { 
Russians, and somc Christians like neither, who decline \ 
the figure of rest, and make choice of an erect j 
posture. ; 

That they carried them out of the world with j 
their feet forward, not inconsonant unto rea- 
son, as contrary unto the native posture of ; 
man, and his production first into it, and also i 
agreeable unto their opinions, while they bid ; 
adieu unto the world, not to look again upon 
it ; whereas Mahometans, who think to return 1 
to a deliffhtfiil life ao;ain, are carried forth with . 

* Tu manes ne Icede meos. i 



URN-BURIAL. 331 

their heads forward, and looking toward their 
houses. 

They closed their eyes, as parts which first 
die, or first discover the sad effects of death. 
But their iterated clamations to excitate their 
dying or dead friends, or revoke them unto life 
again, was a vanity of aff*ection, as not presum- 
ably ignorant of the critical tests of death, by 
apposition of feathers, glasses, and reflection of 
figures, which dead eyes represent not ; which, 
however not strictly verifiable in fresh and 
warm cadavers, could hardly elude the test in 
corpses of four or five days. 

That they sucked in the last breath of their 
expiring friends, was surely a practice of no 
medical institution, but a loose opinion that the 
soul passed out that way, and a fondness of 
affection from some Pythagorical foundation, 
that the spirit of one body passed into another, 
which they wished might be their own. 

That they poured oil upon the pyre, was a 
tolerable practice, while the intention rested in 
facilitating the ascension. But to place good 
omens in the quick and speedy burning, to sac- 
rifice unto the winds for a despatch in this 
office, was a low form of superstition. 

The Archimime, or jester, attending the fu- 
neral train, and imitating the speeches, gesture, 
and manners of the deceased, was too light for 



332 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

such solemnities, contradicting their funeral ora- 
tions and doleful rites of the grave. 

That they buried a piece of money with them 
as a fee of the Elysian ferryman, was a practice 
full of folly. But the ancient custom of placing 
coins in considerable urns, and the present prac- 
tice of burying medals in the noble foundations 
of Europe, are laudable ways of historical dis- 
coveries, in actions, persons, chronologies ; and 
posterity Avill applaud them. 

We examine not the old laws of sepulture, 
exempting certain persons from burial or burn- 
ing. But hereby we apprehend that these were 
not the bones of persons planet-struck or burnt 
with fire from heaven ; no relics of traitors to 
their country, self-killers, or sacrilegious male- 
factors, persons in old apprehension unworthy 
of the earth, condemned unto the Tartarus of 
hell and bottomless pit of Pluto, from whence 
there was no redemption. 

Nor were only many customs questionable in 
order to their obsequies, but also sundry prac- 
tices, fictions, and conceptions, discordant or ob- 
scure, of their state and future beings. Wheth- 
er unto eio;ht or ten bodies of men to add one 
of a woman, as being more inflammable, and 
unctuously constituted for the better pyral com- 
bustion, were any rational practice ; or whether 
the complaint of Periander's wife be tolerable, 



URN-BURIAL. 333 

that, wanting lier funeral burning, she suffered 
intolerable cold in hell, according to the con- 
stitution of the infernal house of Pluto, wherein 
cold makes a great part of their tortures; it 
cannot pass without some question. 

Why the female ghosts appear unto Ulysses 
before the heroes and masculine spirits; why 
the Psyche, or soul, of Tiresias is of the mas- 
culine gender,* who, being blind on earth, sees 
more than all the rest in hell ; why the funeral 
suppers consisted of eggs, beans, smallage, and 
lettuce, since the dead are made to eat aspho- 
dels f about the Elysian meadows ; why, since 
there is no sacrifice acceptable, nor any propi- 
tiation for the covenant of the grave, men set 
up the deity of Morta, and fruitlessly adored 
divinities without ears ; it cannot escape some 
doubt. 

The dead seem allalive in the human "hades'^ 
of Homer, yet cannot well speak, prophesy, or 
know the living, except they drink blood, where- 
in is the life of man. And therefore the souls 
of Penelope's paramours, conducted by Mer- 
cury, chirped like bats, and those which fol- 
lowed Hercules made a noise, but like a flock 
of birds. 

The departed spirits know things past and to 

* '^V)(r] 9j//3atou Teipea-lao aKrJTrrpov Z)(<t>v. Homer. 
i Lucian. 



334 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

come, yet are ignorant of things present. Aga- 
memnon foretells what should happen unto Ulys- 
ses, yet ignorantly inquires what is become of 
his own son. The ghosts are afraid of swords 
in Homer; yet Sibylla tells ^neas in Virgil, 
the thin habit of spirits was beyond the force of 
weapons. The spirits put off their malice with 
their bodies, and Csesar and Pompey accord in 
Latin hell ; yet Ajax, in Homer, endures not a 
conference with Ulysses ; and Deiphobus ap- 
pears all mangled in Virgil's ghosts ; yet we 
meet with perfect shadows among the womided 
ghosts of Homer. 

Since Charon, in Lucian, applauds his condi- 
tion among the dead, whether it be handsomely 
said of Achilles, that living contemner of death, 
that he had rather be a ploughman's servant 
than emperor of the dead ; how Hercules's soul 
is in hell and yet in heaven, and Julius's soul in 
a star, yet seen by JEneas in hell ; (except the 
ghosts were but images and shadows of the soul, 
received in higher mansions, according to the 
ancient division of body, soul, and image, or 
simulacrum of them both,) we leave our read- 
ers to judge. The particulars of future beings 
must needs be dark unto ancient theories, which 
Christian philosophy yet determines but in a 
cloud of opinions. A dialogue between two in- 
fants in the womb, concerning the state of this 



URN-BURIAL. 335 

world, might handsomely illustrate our igno- 
rance of the next, whereof methinks we yet 
discourse in Plato's den, and are but embryon 
philosophers. 

Pythagoras escapes, in the fabulous hell of 
Dante, among that swarm of philosophers, 
wherein, whilst we meet with Plato and Soc- 
rates, Cato is to be found in no lower place 
than Purgatory. Among all the set, Epicunis 
is most considerable, whom men make honest 
without an Elysium, who contemned life with- 
out encouragement of immortahty, and, making 
nothing after death, yet made nothing of the 
kino; of terrors. 

Were the happiness of the next world as 
closely apprehended as the felicities of this, it 
were a martyrdom to live; and unto such as 
consider none hereafter, it must be more than 
death to die, which makes us amazed at those 
audacities that durst be nothing and return into 
their chaos again. Certainly such spirits as 
could contemn death, when they expected no 
better being after, would have scorned to live 
had they known any. And therefore we ap- 
plaud not the judgments of Machiavel, that 
|"( Christianity makes men cowards ; or that with 
the confidence of but half dying, the despised 
virtues of patience and humility have abased 
the spirits of men, which Pagan principles ex- 

<" ■ f c 



336 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

alted ; but rather regulated the wildness of au- 
dacities, in the attempts, grounds, and eternal 
sequels of death, wherein men of the boldest 
spirits are often prodigiously temerarious. Nor 
can we extenuate the valor of ancient martyrs, 
who contemned death in the uncomfortable 
scene of their lives, and in their decrepit mar- 
tyrdoms did probably lose not many months 
of their days, or parted with life when it was 
scarce worth the living; for (beside that long 
time past holds no consideration unto a slender 
time to come) they had no small disadvantage 
from the constitution of old age, which natu- 
rally makes men fearful, and complexion ally 
superannuated from the bold and courageous 
thoughts of youth and fervent years. But the 
contempt of death from corporal animosity pro- 
moteth not our felicity. They may sit in the 
orchestra and noblest seats of heaven who have 
held up shaking hands in the fire, and humanly 
contended for glory. 

Meanwhile Epicurus lies deep in Dante's 
hell, wherein we meet with tombs enclosing 
souls which denied their immortalities. But 
whether the virtuous heathen, who lived better 
than he spake, or, erring in the principles of 
himself, yet lived above philosophers of more 
specious maxims, lie so deep as he is placed ; 
at least so low as not to rise aojainst Christians, 



URN-BURIAL. 337 

who, believing or knowing tliat truth, have last- 
ingly denied it in their practice and conversa- 
tion, — Avere a query too sad to insist on. 

But all or most apprehensions rested in opin- 
ions of some future being, which, ignorantly 
or coldly believed, begat those perverted con- 
ceptions, ceremonies, sayings, which Christians 
pity or laugh at. Happy are they which live 
not in that disadvantage of time, when men 
could say little for futurity but from reason; 
whereby the noblest minds fell often upon 
doubtful deaths and melancholy dissolutions. 
With those hopes Socrates warmed his doubt- 
ful spirits against that cold potion ; and Cato, 
before he durst give the fatal stroke, spent part 
of the night in reading the immortality of Pla- 
to, thereby confirming his wavering hand unto 
the animosity of that attempt. 

It is the heaviest stone that melancholy can 
throw at a man, to tell him he is at the end of 
his nature ; or that there is no farther state to 
come, unto which this seems progressional, and 
otherwise made in vain. Without this accom- 
plishment, the natural expectation and desire 
of such a state were but a fallacy in nature. 
Unsatisfied considerators would quarrel at the 
justice of their constitutions, and rest content 
that Adam had fallen lower; whereby, by 
knowing no other original, and deeper igno- 
22 



338 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

ranee of themselves, they might have enjoyed 
the happiness of inferior creatures, who in tran- 
quilhty possess their constitutions, as having 
not the apprehension to deplore their own na- 
tures ; and being framed below the circumfer- 
ence of these hopes, or cognition of better being, 
the wisdom of God hath necessitated their con- 
tentment. But the superior ingredient and ob- 
scured part of ourselves, whereto all present 
felicities aflPord no resting contentment, will be 
able at last to tell us we are more than our 
present selves, and evacuate such hopes in the 
fruition of their own accomplishments. 



CHAPTER V. 




OW, since these dead bones have 
ah'eady outlasted the hving ones of 
Methuselah, and, in a yard under 
ground, and thin walls of clay, out- 
worn all the strong and specious buildings above 
it, and quietly rested under the dimms and 
tramplings of three conquests ; what prince can 
promise such diuturnity unto his relics, or miglit 
not gladly say, 

" Sic ego componi versus in ossa yelim." 

Time, which antiquates antiquities, and hath an 
art to make dust of all things, hath yet spared 
these minor monuments. In vain we hope to 
be known by open and visible conservatories, 
when to be unknown was the means of their 
continuation, and obscurity their protection. 

If they died by violent hands, and were thrust 
into their urns, these bones become considerable, 
and some old philosophers would honor them, 



340 HYDRIOTAPHIA. .\ 

whose souls tliey conceived most pure, which \ 

were thus snatched from their bodies,* and to i 

retain a stronger propension unto them ; where- ; 
as, they weariedly left a languishing corpse, and 

with faint desires of reunion. If they fell by i 

long and aged decay, yet wrapped up in the [ 

bundle of time, they fall into indistinction, and ' 

make but one blot with infants. If we begin to i 

die when we live, and long life be but a prolon- i 

gation of death, our life is a sad composition ; i 
we live with death, and die not in a moment. 

How many pulses made up the life of Methu- j 

selah, were work for Archimedes. Common i 

counters sum up the life of Moses's man.f Our ; 
days become considerable, like petty sums by 

minute accumulations, where numerous frac- i 

tions make up but small round numbers, and \ 

our days of a span long make not one little i 

finger, f ! 

If the nearness of our last necessity brought i 

a nearer conformity unto it, there were a hap- ■ 

piness in hoary hairs, and no calamity in half ■ 
senses. But the long habit of living indisposeth 
us for dying ; when avarice makes us the sport 

* Bi;; \nr6vT0iv crcS^a y\rv)(a\ KadapoiTarai. " Vi corpus | 

relinquentium animce purissimai." — Oracula Chaldaica cum J 

scholiis Pselli et Phethonis. : 

t In the psalm of Moses. 5 

I According to the ancient arithmetic of the hand, wherein ^ 

the little finger of the right hand, contracted, signified a hundred. 



URN-BURIAL. 341 

of death ; when even David grew politically cru- 
el ; and Solomon could hardly be said to be the 
wisest of men. But many are too early old, and 
before the date of age. Adversity stretcheth 
our days, misery makes Alcmena's nio;hts, and ^°f "'^^* 

•^ "^ o ' as long as 

time hath no wings unto it. But the most te- three. 
dious being is that which can unwish itself, con- 
tent to be nothing, or never to have been ; which 
was beyond the malecontent of Job, who cursed 
not the day of his life, but his nativity, content 
to have so far been as to have a title to future 
being, although he had lived here but in a hid- 
den state of life, and as it were an abortion. 

What song the Sirens sang, or what name 
Achilles assumed when he hid himself amoncr 

o 

women, though puzzling questions,* are not be- 
yond all conjecture. What time the persons of 
these ossuaries entered the famous nations of the 
dead,! ^^^ slept with princes and counsellors, 
might admit a wide solution. But who were 
the proprietaries of these bones, or what bodies 
these ashes made up, were a question above an- 
tiquarianism ; not to be resolved by man, nor 
easily perhaps by spirits, except we consult the 
provincial guardians or tutelary observators. 
Had they made as good provision for their 

* The puzzling questions of Tiberius unto grammarians. 
Marcel. Donatus in Suet, 
t KXvra Wvea veKpStv- Horn. Job. 



342 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

names as tliey have done for their rehcs, they 
had not so grossly erred in the art of perpetua- 
tion. But to subsist in bones, and be but py- 
ramidally extant, is a fallacy in duration. Vain 
ashes, which in the oblivion of names, persons, 
times, and sexes, have found unto themselves a 
fruitless continuation, and only arise unto late 
posterity, as emblems of mortal vanities, anti- 
dotes against pride, vainglory, and madding 
vices. Pagan vainglories, which thought the 
world miffht last forever, had encouragement 
for ambition ; and finding no Atropos unto the 
immortality of their names, were never damped 
with the necessity of oblivion. Even old ambi- 
tions had the advantage of ours, in the attempts 
of their vainglories, who, acting early, and be- 
fore the probable meridian of time, have by this 
time found great accomplishment of their de- 
signs, whereby the ancient heroes have already 
outlasted their monuments and mechanical pres- 
ervations. But in this latter scene of time Ave 
cannot expect such mummies unto our memo- 
Thutt'ae ries, when ambition may fear the prophecy of 
last but six Elias, and Charles the Fifth can never expect to 
thousand YiYQ witliiu two Mcthuselahs of Hector.* 

And therefore restless inquietude for the diu- 
turnity of our memories unto present considera- 

* Hector's fame lasting above two lives of Methuselah, before 
^ that famous prince, Charles, was extant. 



URN-BURIAL. 343 

tlons, seems a vanity almost out of date, and 
superannuated piece of folly. We cannot hope 
to live so long in our names as some have done 
in tlieir persons. One face of Janus holds no 
proportion unto the other. 'T is too late to be 
ambitious. The great mutations of the world 
are acted, or time may be too short for our de- 
signs. To extend our memories by monuments, 
whose death we daily pray for, and whose dura- 
tion we cannot hope, without injmy to our ex- 
pectations, in the advent of the last day, were a 
contradiction to our beliefs. We, whose gener- 
ations are ordained in this setting part of time, 
are providentially taken off from such imagina- 
tions ; and being necessitated to eye the remain- 
ing particle of futurity, are naturally constituted 
unto thoughts of the next world, and cannot ex- 
cusably decline the consideration of that dura- 
tion, which maketh pyramids pillars of snow, 
and all that 's past a moment. 

Circles and rig-ht lines limit and close all 
bodies, and the mortal right-lined circle must ©^ *^e 
conclude and shut up all. There is no antidote ^^ ^g^th. 
against the opium of time, which temporally 
considereth all things. Our fathers find their 
graves in our short memories, and sadly tell 
us how we may be buried in our survivors. 
Gravestones tell truth scarce forty years.* 

* Old ones being taken up, and other bodies laid under them. 



344 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

Generations pass while some trees stand, and 
old families last not tliree oaks. To be read 
by bare inscriptions, like many in Gruter ; * to 
hope for eternity by enigmatical epithets, or 
first letters of our names ; to be studied by an- 
tiquaries, who we were, and have new names 
given us, like many of the mummies, f are cold 
consolations unto the students of perpetuity, 
even by everlasting languages. 

To be content that times to come should 
only know there was such a man, not caring 
whether they knew more of him, was a frigid 
ambition in Cardan, if disparaging his horosco- 
pal inclination and judgment of himself. Who 
cares to subsist like Hippocrates's patients, or 
Achilles's horses in Homer, under naked nomi- 
nations, without deserts and noble acts, which 
are the balsam of our memories, the " entele- 
chia " and soul of our subsistences ? Yet to be 
nameless in worthy deeds exceeds an infamous 
history. The Canaanitish woman lives more 
happily without a name, than Herodias with 
one. And who had not rather have been the 
good thief than Pilate ? 

* Gruteri Inscriptiones Antiquse. 

t Which men show in several countries, giving them what 
names they please, and unto some the names of the old Egyptian 
kings out of Herodotus. 

X " Cuperem notum esse quod sim, non opto ut sciatur qualis 
sim." — Card, in Vita propria. 



URN-BURIAL. 345 

But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scatter- 
etli her poppy, and deals with the memory of 
men without distinction to merit of perpetuity. 
Who can but pity the founder of the pyra- 
mids ? Erostratus lives that burnt the Temple 
of Diana ; he is almost lost that built it. Time 
hath spared the epitaph of Adrian's horse, con- 
founded that of himself. In vain we compute 
our felicities by the advantage of our good 
names, since bad have equal durations; and 
Thersites is like to live as Ions; as A2;amemnon. 
Who knows whether the best of men be known, 
or whether there be not more remarkable per- 
sons forgot than any that stand remembered 
in the known account of time? Without the 
favor of the everlasting register, the first man 
had been as unknown as the last, and Methu- 
selah's long life had been his only chronicle. 

Oblivion is not to be hired. The gi^eater 
part mvist be content to be as though they had 
not been, to be found in the register of God, 
not in the record of man. Twenty-seven names 
make up the first story, and the recorded names ^^^^''^ *^® 
ever since contain not one living century. The 
number of the dead long exceedeth all that 
shall live. The night of time far surpasseth 
the day ; and who knows when was the equi- 
nox? Every hour adds unto that current 
arithmetic, which scarce stands one moment. 



flood. 



346 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

Aiid since deatli must be tlie Luclna of life, and I 
even Pagans could doubt whether thus to live 
were to die ; since our longest sun sets at right 
declensions, and makes but winter arches, and i 
therefore it cannot be lono; before we lie down 
in darkness, and have our light in ashes ; * 
since the brother of death daily haunts us with 
dying mementos, and time, that grows old it- 
self, bids us hope no long duration, diuturnity 
is a dream and folly of expectation. 

Darkness and light divide the course of time, 
and oblivion shares with memory a great part 
even of our living beings. We slightly remem- 
ber our felicities, and the smartest strokes of 
affliction leave but short smart upon us. Sense 
endureth no extremities, and sorrows destroy 
us or themselves. To weep into stones are fa- 
bles. Afflictions induce callosities ; miseries are 
slippery, or fall like snow upon us, which, not- 
withstanding, is no unhappy stupidity. To be 
io-norant of evils to come, and forgetful of evils 
past, is a merciful provision in nature, whereby 
we digest the mixture of our few and evil days, 
and our delivered senses not relapsing into cut- 
ting remembrances, our sorrows are not kept 
raw by the edge of repetitions. A great part 
of antiquity contented their hopes of subsistency 

* According to the custom of the Jews, who placed a lighted 
wax-candle in a pot of ashes by the corpse. 



URN-BURIAL. 347 

with a transmigration of their souls ; a g6ocl Avay 
to continue their memories, while, having the 
advantage of plural successions, they could not 
but act something remarkable in such variety 
of beings, and enjoying the fame of then' passed 
selves, make accumulation of glory unto their 
last durations. Others, rather than be lost in 
the uncomfortable night of nothing, were con- 
tent to recede into the common being, and 
make one particle of the public soul of all 
things, which was no more than to return 
into their unknown and divine original again. 
Egyptian ingenuity was more unsatisfied, con- 
triving their bodies in sweet consistencies to 
attend the return of their souls. But all 
was vanity, feeding the wind and folly.* The 
Egyptian mummies, which Cambyses or time ^ 
hath spared, avarice now consume th. Mummy' ,' 
is become merchandise, Mizraim cures wounds, 
and Pharaoh is sold for balsams. 

lln vain do individuals hope for immortality, 
or any patent from oblivion, in preservations be- 
low the moon. Men have been deceived even 
in their flatteries above the sun, and studied 
conceits to perpetuate their names in heaven. 
The various cosmography of that part hath al- 
ready varied the names of contrived constella- 

* Omnia vanitas et pastio venti, voyir] avefxov Koi ^6(TKT]cns, 
ut olim Aquila et Symmachus. 



348 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

tlons. Nimrod is lost in Orion, and Osiris in 
the Dog-star. While we look for incorruption 
in the heavens, we find they are but like the 
earth, durable in their main bodies, alterable in 
then' parts ; whereof, beside comets and new 
stars, perspectives begin to tell tales, and the 
spots that wander about the sun, with Pha- 
ethon's favor, would make clear conviction. 

There is nothing strictly immortal but immor- 
tality. Whatever hath no beginning, may be 
confident of no end ; which is the peculiar of 
that necessary essence that cannot destroy itself, 
and the highest strain of omnipotency to be so 
powerfully constituted, as not to suffer even 
from the power of itself. All others have a de- 
pendent being, and within the reach of destruc- 
tion. But the sufficiency of Christian immor- 
taUty frustrates all earthly glory, and the qual- 
ity of either state after death makes a folly of 
posthumous memory. God, who can only de- 
stroy our souls, and hath assured our resurrec- 
tion, either of our bodies or names hath directly 
promised no duration. Wherein there is so 
much of chance, that the boldest expectants 
have found unhappy fnistration ; and to hold 
long subsistence seems but a scape in oblivion. 
But man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes, 
and pompous in the grave, solemnizing nativi- 
ties and deaths with equal lustre, nor omitting 



URN-BURIAL. 349 

ceremonies of bravery in the infamy of liis 
nature. 

i Life is a pure flame, and we live by an invis- 
ible sun within us. A small fire sufficeth for 
life ; great flames seemed too little after death, 
wliile men vainly affected precious pyres, and to 
burn like Sardanapalus. But the wisdom of 
funeral laws found the folly of prodigal blazes, 
and reduced undoing fires unto the rule of 
sober obsequies, wherein few could be so mean 
as not to provide wood, pitch, a mourner, and 
an urn.* 

Five languages! secured not the epitaph of 
Gordianus. The man of God lives longer with- 
out a tomb than any by one, invisibly interred 
by angels, and adjudged to obscurity, though 
not without some marks directing human dis- 
covery. Enoch and Elias, without either tomb 
or burial, in an anomalous state of being, are the 
great examples of perpetuity, in their long and 
living memory, in strict account being still on 
this side death, and having a late part yet to act 

* According to the epitaph of Rufus and Beronica in Gruterus : 

" Nee ex 
Eorum bonis plus inventum est, quara 
Quod sufficeret ad emendam pyram 
Et picem quibus corpora cremarentur, 
Et prsefica conducta et olla empta." 

t Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Egyptian, and Arabic, defaced by 
Licinius the Emperor. 



350 HYDRIOTAPHIA. 

upon tliis stage of earth. If in the decretory 
term of the world we shall not all die, but be 
changed, according to received translation, the 
last day will make but few graves ; at least, 
quick resurrections will anticipate lasting sepul- 
tures. Some graves will be opened before they 
be quite closed, and Lazarus be no wonder ; 
when many that feared to die shall groan that 
they can die but once. (The dismal state is the) 
second and living death, when life puts despair^ 
on the damned, when men shall wish the cover-< 
ings of mountains, not of monuments, and anni-) 
hilation shall be courted. ^ 

While some have studied monuments, others 
have studiously declined them ; and some have 
been so vainly boisterous, that they durst not 
acknowledge their graves ; wherein Alaricus 
seems more subtle, who had a river turned to 
hide his bones at the bottom. Even Sylla, who 
thought himself safe in his urn, could not pre- 
vent revenging tongues, and stones thrown at \ 
his monument. Happy are they whom privacy | 
makes innocent, who deal so with men in this j 
world, that they are not afraid to meet them in i 
the next ; who, Avhen they die, make no com- | 
motion among the dead, and are not touched ] 



Tal '^'^' ^^'^^^^ ^^^^^ poetical taunt of Isaiah. 

Pyramids, arches, obelisks, were but the ir- 
regularities of vainglory and wild enormities of 



URN-BURIAL. 351 

ancient magnanimity. But tlie most magnani- 
mous resolution rests in the Christian rehgion, 
which trampleth upon pride, and sits on the 
neck of ambition, humbly pursuing that infal- 
lible perpetuity, unto which all others must 
diminish their diameters, and be poorly seen in 
ano-les of contino;ency. AnguUi^ 

~ o ^ contingen- 



Pious spirits, who passed their days in rap- tice, the 

least of 
angles. 



tures of futurity, made little more of this world 
than the world that was before it, while they 
lay obscure in the chaos of preordination and 
night of their forebeings. And if any have 
been so happy as truly to understand Christian 
annihilation, ecstasis, exolution, liquefaction, 
transformation, the kiss of the spouse, gustation 
of God, and ingression into the divine shadow, 
they have already had a handsome anticipation 
of heaven ; the glory of the world is surely 
over, and the earth in ashes unto them. 

To subsist in lasting monuments, to live in 
their productions, to exist in their names and 
predicament of chimeras, was large satisfaction 
unto old expectations, and made one part of 
their Elysium. But all this is nothing in the 
(metaphysics of true belief. To live indeed, 
is to be again ourselves, which being not only 
a hope but an evidence in noble believers, 'tis 
all one to lie in St. Innocent's churchyard,* 

* In Paris, ■where bodies soon consume. 



352 



HYDRIOTAPHIA. 



as in the sands of Egypt,* ready to be any- 
thing, in the ecstasy of being ever, and as 
content with six feet as the " moles " of Adri- 
anus.f 

" Tabesne cadavera solvat 
An rogus, haud vefert." 

LUCAN. 

* Beneath the pyramids. 

t A stately mausoleum, or sepulchral pile, built by Adrianus 
in Rome, where now standeth the castle of St. Angelo. 



FROM 

The Garden of Cyrus, 



^^ 



FROM 



The Garden of Cyrus, 



OR THE QUINCUNCIAL* LOZENGE. 




ND therefore Providence liath arched 
and paved the great house of the 
Avorld, with colours of mediocrity, 
that is, blue and green, above and 
below the sight, moderately terminating the 
acies of the eye. For most plants, though green 
above ground, maintain their original white be- 
low it, according to the candour of their seminal 
pulp : and the rudimental leaves do first appear 
in that colour, observable in seeds sprouting 
in water upon their first foliation. Green seem- 
ing to be the first supervenient, or above-ground 
complexion of vegetables, separable in many 
upon ligature or inhumation, as succory, endive, 
artichokes, and which is also lost upon fading 
in the autumn. 

* Quincunx. An arrangement or disposition of things hj Jives 
in a square, one being placed in the middle of the square. 



356 THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 



1 



And this is also agreeable unto water itself, 
the alimental vehicle of plants, which first alter- 
eth into this colour. And, containing many 
vegetable seminalities, revealeth their seeds by 
greenness ; and therefore soonest expected in 
rain or standing water, not easily found in dis- 
tilled or water strongly boiled ; wherein the 
seeds are extinguished by fire and decoction, 
and therefore last long and pure without such 
alteration, affording neither uliginous coats, gnat- 
worms, acari., hair-Avorms, like crude and com- 
mon water ; and therefore most fit for whole- 
some beverage, and Avith malt makes ale and 
beer without boiling. What large water-drink- 
ers some plants are, the canary- tree and birches 
in some northern countries, drenching the fields 
about them, do sufficiently demonstrate. How 
Avater itself is able to maintain the growth of 
vegetables, and without extinction of their gen- 
erative or medical virtues, — besides the ex- 
periment of Helmont's tree, we have found in 
some which have lived six years in glasses. 
The seeds of scurvy-grass growing in water- 
pots, have been fruitful in the land; and as- 
sarum after a year's space, and once casting 
its leaves in water, in the second leaves hath 
handsomely performed its vomiting operation. 

Nor are only dark and green colours, but 
shades and shadows, contrived through the great 



THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 357 

volume of nature, and trees ordained not only 
to protect and shadow others, but by their 
shades and shadowing parts to preserve and 
cherish themselves : the whole radiation or 
branchings shadowing the stock and the root; 
— the leaves, the branches and fruit, too much 
exposed to the winds and scorching sun. The 
calicular leaves enclose the tender flowers, and 
the flowers themselves lie wrapped about the 
seeds, in their rudiment and first formations, 
which being advanced, the flowers fall away ; 
and are therefore contrived in variety of figures, 
best satisfying the intention; handsomely ob- 
servable in hooded and gaping flowers, and the 
butterfly blooms of leguminous plants, the lower 
leaf closely involving the rudimental cod, and 
the alary or wingy divisions embracing or hang- 
ing over it. 

But seeds themselves do lie in perpetual 
shades, either under the leaf, or shut up in 
coverings ; and such as lie barest have their 
husks, skins, and pulps about them, wherein 
the nib and generative particle lieth moist and 
secured from the injury of air and sun. Dark- 
ness and lio;ht hold interchano-eable dominions, 
and alternately rule the seminal state of things. 
Light unto Pluto* is darkness unto Jupiter. 

* "Lux orco, tenebras Jovi; tenebros orco, lux Jovi." — Hip- 
pocr. de Diseta. S. Hevelii Selenographia. 



358 THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 

Legions of seminal ideas lie in their second 
cliaos and Orcus of Hippocrates ; till, putting 
on the habits of their forms, they show them- 
selves upon the stage of the world, and open 
dominion of Jove. They that held the stars 
of heaven were but rays and flashing ghmpses 
of the empyreal light, through holes and per- 
forations of the upper heaven, took off the natu- 
ral shadows of stars ; while according to better 
discovery the poor inhabitants of the moon have 
but a polary life, and must pass half their days 
in the shadow of that luminary. 

Light that makes things seen, makes some 
things invisible : were it not for darkness and 
the shadow of the earth, the noblest part of 
the creation had remained unseen, and the stars 
in heaven as invisible as on the fourth day, 
when they were created above the horizon with 
the sun, or there was not an eye to behold 
them. The greatest mystery of religion is ex- 
pressed by adumbration, and in the noblest part 
of Jewish types we find the cherubims shad- 
owing the mercy-seat. Life itself is but the 
shadow of death, and souls departed but tlie 
shadows of the livincr. All thinojs fall under 
this name. The sun itself is but the dark 
simulachrum^ and light but the shadow of God. 

Lastly, it is no wonder that this quincuncial 
order was first and is still affected as grateful 



THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 359 

unto the eye. For all things are seen quin- 
cuncially; for at the eye the pyramidal rays 
from the object receive a decussation, and so 
strike a second base upon the retina or hinder 
coat, the proper organ of vision; wherein the 
pictures from objects are represented, answer- 
able to the paper, or wall in the dark chamber ; 
after the decussation of the rays at the hole of 
the horny-coat, and their refraction upon the 
crystalline humour, answering the foramen of 
the window, and the convex or burning-glasses, 
which refract the rays that enter it. And if 
ancient anatomy would hold, a like disposure 
there was of the optic or visual nerves in the 
brain, wherein antiquity conceived a concur- 
rence by decussation. And this not only ob- 
servable in the laws of direct vision, but in 
some part also verified in the reflected rays of 
sight. For making the angle of incidence equal 
to that of reflection, the visual ray returneth 
quincuncially, and after the form of a V ; and 
the line of reflection being continued unto the 
place of vision, there ariseth a semi-decussation 
which makes the object seen in a perpendicular 
unto itself, and as far below the reflectent, as 
it is from it above ; observable in the sun and 
moon beheld in water. 

And this is also the law of reflection in 
moved bodies and sounds, which, though not 



330 THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 

made by decussation, observe the rule of equal- 
ity between incidence and reflection : whereby 
whispering places are framed by elliptical arches 
laid sidewise ; where the voice being delivered 
at the focus of one extremity, observing an 
equality unto the angle of incidence, it will re- 
flect unto the focus of the other end, and so 
escape the ears of the standers in the middle. 

A like rule is observed in the reflection of 
the vocal and sonorous line in echoes, which 
cannot therefore be heard in all stations. But 
happening in woody plantations, by waters, and 
able to return some Avords, if reached by a 
pleasant and well dividing voice, there may be 
heard the softest notes in nature. 

And this not only verified in the way of 
sense, but in animal and intellectual receptions : 
things entering upon the intellect by a pyramid 
from without, and thence into the memory by 
another from within, the common decussation 
being in the understanding as is delivered by 
Car. BoTii- Bo^iHus. Whether the intellectual and fan- 

lus de In- 

teiiectu. tastical lines be not thus rightly disposed, but 
magnified, diminished, distorted, and ill-placed, 
in the mathematics of some brains, whereby 
they have irregular apprehensions of things, 
perverted notions, conceptions, and incurable 
hallucinations, were no unpleasant speculation. 
And if Egyptian philosophy may obtain, the 



THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 361 

scale of influences was thus disposed, and the 
genial spirits of both worlds do trace their way 
in ascending and descending pyramids, mystic- 
ally apprehended in the letter X, and the open 
bill and straddling legs of a stork, which was 
imitated by that character. 

Of this figure Plato made choice to illustrate 
the motion of the soul, both of the world and 
man : while he delivereth that God divided the 
whole conjunction lengthwise, according to the 
figure of a Greek X, and then turning it about 
reflected it into a circle ; by the circle imply- 
ing the uniform motion of the first orb, and 
by the right lines, the planetical and various 
motions within It. And this also with applica- 
tion unto the soul of man, Avhich hath a double 
aspect, one right, whereby it beholdeth the body, 
and objects without ; another circular and re- 
ciprocal, whereby it beholdeth itself. The cir- 
cle declaring the motion of the indivisible soul, 
simple, according to the divinity of its nature, 
and returning into itself; the right lines re- 
specting the motion pertaining unto sense and 
vegetation ; and the central decussation, the 
wondrous connection of the several faculties 
conjointly in one substance. And so conjoined 
the unity and duality of the soul, and made 
out the three substances so much considered by 
him; that is, the indivisible or divine, the divisi- 



362 THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 

ble or corporeal, and that third, Avhich was the 
sy stasis or harmony of those two, in the mystical 
decussation. 

And if that were clearly made out which 
Justin iNIartyr took for granted, this figure hath 
had the honour to characterize and notify our 
blessed Saviour, as he delivereth in that bor- 
rowed expression from Plato, " Decussavit eum 
in universo," the hint whereof he would have 
Plato derive from the figure of the brazen ser- 
pent, and to have mistaken the letter X for 
T. Whereas it is not improbable he learned 
these and other mystical expressions in his 
learned observations of Egypt, where he might 
obviously behold the mercurial characters, the 
handed crosses, and other mysteries not thor- 
oughly understood in the sacred letter X ; 
which, being derivative from the stork, one 
of the ten sacred animals, might be originally 
Egyptian, and brought into Greece by Cadmus 
of that country. 

To enlarge this contemplation unto all the 
mysteries and secrets accommodable unto this 
number, were inexcusable Pythagorism, yet 
cannot omit the ancient conceit of five surnamed 
the number of justice ; * as justly dividing be- 
tween the digits, and hanging in the centre of 
nine, described by square numeration, which 



THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 363 

angularly clivicled will make the decussated num- 
ber ; and so agreeable unto tlie quincuncial or- 
dination, and rows divided by equality, and just 
decorum, in the whole com-plantation ; and 
might be the original of that common game 
among us, wherein the fifth place is sovereign, 
and carrieth the chief intention ; — the ancients 
wisely instructing youth, even in their recrea- 
tions, unto virtue, that is, early to drive at the 
middle point and central seat of justice. 

Nor can we omit how agreeable unto this 
number an handsome division is made in trees 
and plants, since Plutarch, and the ancients have 
named it the divisive number ; justly dividing 
the entities of the world, many remarkable 
things in it, and also comprehending the general 
division of vegetables.* And he that considers 
how most blossoms of trees, and greatest num- 
ber of flowers, consist of five leaves, and therein 
doth rest the settled rule of nature, — so that 
in those Avhich exceed there is often found, or 
easily made, a variety, — may readily discover 
how nature rests in this number, which is in- 
deed the first rest and pause of numeration in 
the fingers, the natural organs thereof. Nor in 

* Aevbpov, Qdfxvos, ^pvyavov, Uoa, arhor, frutex, siiffrutex, 
lierha, and that fifth which comprehendeth the fungi and tubera, 
whether to be named "Aarxiov or yvfxvov, comprehending also 
conferva marina salsa, and sea-cords, of so many yards length. 



Plato de 
Leg. 6. 



364 THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 

the division of the feet of perfect animals cloth 
nature exceed this account. And even in the 
joints of feet, which in birds are most multi- 
plied, surpasseth not this number ; so progres- 
sionally making them out in many,* that from 
five in the fore-claw she descendeth unto two 
in the hindmost ; and so in four feet makes up 
the number of joints in the five fingers or toes 
of man. 

Not to omit the quintuple section of a cone,f 
of handsome practice in ornamental garden- 
plots, and in same way discoverable in so many 
works of nature, in the leaves, fruits, and seeds 
of vegetables, and scales of some fishes ; so much 
considerable in glasses, and the optic doctrine ; 
wherein the learned may consider the crystalline 
humour of the eye in the cuttle-fish and loligo. 

He that forgets not how antiquity named this 
the conjugal or wedding number, and made it 
the emblem of the most remarkable conjunction, 
Avill conceive it duly appliable unto this hand- 
some economy and vegetable combination : and 
may hence apprehend the allegorical sense of 
that obscure expression of Hesiod,:j: and afford 
no improbable reason why Plato admitted his 
nuptial guests by fives, in the kindred of the 
married couple. 

* As herons, bitterns, and long-clawed fowls. 

t Elleipsis, parabola, hijperhole,, circulus, triangulum. 

X ireyLTTTaii id est, nuptias multas. Rhodig. 



THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 365 

And though a sharper mystery might be im- 
pHed in the number of the five wise and fooHsh 
virgins, which were to meet the bridegroom, 
yet was the same agreeable unto the conjugal 
number, which ancient numerists made out by 
two and three, the first parity and imparity, 
the active and passive digits, the material and 
formal principles in generative societies. And 
not discordant even from the customs of the 
Romans, who admitted but five torches in their riutarch. 
nuptial solemnities. Whether there were any ^^^^ j, * 
mystery, or not, implied, the most generative 
animals were created on this day, and had ac- 
cordingly the largest benediction. And under 
a quintuple consideration, wanton antiquity con- 
sidered the circumstances of generation, while 
by this number of five they naturally divided 
the nectar of the fifth planet.* 

The same number in the Hebrew mysteries 
and cabalistical accounts was the character of 
generation,! declared by the letter E, the fifth 
in their alphabet, according to that cabalistical 
doofma ; if Abram had not had this letter added 
unto his name, he had remained fruitless, and 
without the power of generation : not only be- 
cause hereby the number of his name attained 

* " oscula quae Venus 

Quinta parte sui nectaris imbuit." 

Hor. lib. i. od. 13. 
t Archansc. Door. Cabal. 



366 THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 

two liuncb'ed forty-eiglit, the number of the 
affirmative precepts, but because, as in created 
natures there is a male and female, so in divine 
and intelligent productions, the mother of life 
and fountain of souls in cabalistical technology 
is called Binah^ whose seal and character was 
E. So that, being sterile before, he received 
the power of generation from that measure and 
mansion in the archetype : and was made con- 
formable unto Binah. And upon such involved 
considerations, the ten of Sarai was exchanged 
into five.* If any shall look upon this as a 
stable number, and fitly appropriable unto trees, 
as bodies of rest and station, he hath herein a 
great foundation in nature, who observing much 
variety in legs and motive organs of animals, 
as two, four, six, eight, twelve, fourteen, and 
more, hath passed over five and ten, and as- 
signed them unto none, or very few, as the 
Phalangiiim monstrosum Brasilianum (^Clusii et 
Jac. de Laet. Cur. Poster. Americce Bescript'), 
if perfectly described. And for the stability 
of this number, he shall not want the sphericity 
of its nature, which multiplied in itself will 
return into its own denomination, and bring 
up the rear of the account. Which is also one 
of the numbers that makes up the mystical 
name of God, which consisting of letters de- 

* Jod into He. 



THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 367 

noting all the spherical numbers, ten, five, and 
six, emphatically sets forth the notion of Tris- 
megistus, and that intelligible sphere, wliich is 
the nature of God. 

Many expressions by this number occur in 
Holy Scripture, perhaps unjustly laden with 
mystical expositions, and little concerning our 
order. That the Israelites were forbidden to 
eat the fruit of their new-planted trees before 
the fifth year, was very agreeable unto the nat- 
ural rules of husbandry ; fruits being unwhole- 
some and lash,* before the fourth or fifth year. 
In the second day or feminine part of five, there 
was added no approbation. For in the third or 
masculine day, the same is twice repeated ; and 
a double benediction enclosed both creations, 
whereof the one, in some part, was but an 
accomplishment of the other. That the tres- Lev. vi. 
passer was to pay a fifth part above the head or 
principal, makes no secret in this number, and 
implied no more than one part above the prin- 
cipal ; which being considered in four parts, the 
additional forfeit must bear the name of a fifth. 
The five golden mice had plainly their determi- 
nation from the number of the princes. That 
five should put to flight an hmidred might have 
nothing mystically implied ; considering a rank 

* " lash.'] Soft and watery, but without flavour." — Forby's 
Vocabulary of East Anglia. 



368 THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 

of soldiers could scarce consist of a lesser num- 
ber. Saint Paul had rather speak five words in 
a known, than ten thousand in an unknown 
tongue ; that is, as little as could well be 
spoken ; a simple proposition consisting of three 
words, and a complexed one not ordinarily 
short of five. 

More considerables there are in this mystical 
account, which we must not insist on. And ] 
therefore, why the radical letters in the Penta- I 
teuch should equal the number of the soldiery ) 
of the tribes ? Why our Saviour in the wilder- ] 
ness fed five thousand persons with five barley \ 
loaves ; and again, but four thousand with no ' 
less than seven of wheat ? Why Joseph de- ! 
signed five changes of raiment unto Benjamin ; i 
and David took just five pebbles* out of the 1 
brook against the Pagan champion ; — we leave 
it unto arithmetical divinity, and theological j 
explanation. i 

Yet if any delight in new problems, or think j 
it worth the enquiry, Avhether the critical phy- i 
sician hath rightly hit the nominal notation i 
of quinque f Why the ancients mixed five or j 
three, but not four parts of water unto their ; 
wine ; and Hippocrates observed a fifth propor- j 
tion in the mixture of water with milk, as in I 
dysenteries and bloody fluxes? Under what ' 

* Tecrcrapa evK€, four and one, or five. Scalig. 



THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 369 

abstruse foundation astroloajers do ficrure the 
good or bad fate from our children, in good 
fortune ; * or the fifth house of their celestial 
schemes? Whether the Egyptians described a 
star by a figure of five points, with reference 
unto the five capital aspects,! whereby they 
transmit their influences, or abstruser considera- 
tions ? Wliy the cabalistical doctors, who con- 
ceive the whole sephiroth, or divine emanations 
to have guided the ten-stringed harp of David, 
whereby he pacified the evil spirit of Saul, in 
strict numeration do begin with the perihypate 
meson, or si fa ut, and so place the tipheretJi an- 
swering c sol fa uty upon the fifth string? or 
whether this number be oftener applied unto 
bad things and ends, than good in Holy Scrip- 
ture, and why ? he may meet with abstrusities 
of no ready resolution. 

If any shall question the rationality of that 
magic, in the cure of the blind man by Serapis, 
commanded to place five fingers on his altar, 
and then his hand on his eyes? Why, since 
the whole comedy is primarily and naturally 
comprised in four parts, $ and antiquity per- 
mitted not so many persons to speak in one 
scene, yet would not comprehend the same in 

* ^AyaOt) Tvxni ^onaforiuna, the name of the fifth house, 
t Conjunct, opposite, sextilc, trigonal, tetragonal. 
t UpoTacris, eTriTacns, Kardo-Tacns, KaTacrTpocjirj. 
24 



370 THE GARDEN OF CYRUS, li 

more or less than five acts? "Why amongst i 
sea-stars nature chiefly delighteth in five \ 
points ? And since there are found some of \ 
no fewer than twelve, and some of seven, and ( 
nine, there are few or none discovered of six or 
eight ? * If any shall enquire why the flowers 
of rue properly consist of four leaves, the first 
and third flower have five? Why, since many 
umnuiii- flowers have one leaf or none, as Scaliger will 
folium, liaye it^ divers three, and the greatest number 
consist of five divided from their bottoms, there { 
are yet so few of two ? or why nature, gener- I 
ally beginning or setting out with two opposite 
leaves at the root, doth so seldom conclude with 
that order and number at the flower? He 
shall not pass his hours in vulgar speculations. 
If any shall further query why magnetical 
philosophy excludeth decussations, and needles ' 
transversely placed do naturally distract their I 
Terticities? Why geomancers do imitate the 1 
quintuple figure, in their mother characters of i 
acquisition and amission, &c., somewhat answer- ! 

ing the figures in the lady or speckled beetle ? ' 

1 

* Why amongst sea-stars, cf-c] The far greater number of this | 
group of Radiata is pentagonal, or five-rayed. But there occur 
in many species individuals which vary from the rule. In the ^ 
British Museum there are specimens of Ophiura elegans and I 
Asterias reticulata with but four rays ; of some unnamed species | 
with 4, 5, 6, and 7; of ^. variolata with 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 rays; of i 
A. endica with 8 and 9; and A.jJapposa with from 12 to 15 rays. \ 



THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 371 

With what equity chiromantical conjecturers de- 
cry these decussations in the hnes and mounts 
of the hand ? What that decussated figure in- 
tendeth in the medal of Alexander the Great? 
Why the goddesses sit commonly cross-legged 
in ancient draughts, since Juno is described in 
the same as a veneficial posture to hinder the 
birth of Hercules ? If any shall doubt why at 
the amphidromical feasts, on the fifth day after 
the child was born, presents were sent from 
friends, of polypuses and cuttle-fishes? Why 
five must be only left in that symbolical mutiny 
among the men of Cadmus ? Why Proteus in 
Homer, the symbol of the first matter, before 
he settled himself in the midst of his sea-mon- 
sters, doth place them out by fives ? Why the 
fifth year's ox was acceptable sacrifice unto Ju- 
piter? Or why the noble Antoninus in some 
sense doth call the soul itself a rhombus? He 
shall not fall on trite or trivial disquisitions. 
And these we invent and propose unto acuter 
inquirers, nauseating crambe verities and ques- 
tions over-queried. Flat and flexible truths are 
beat out by every hammer ; but Vulcan and his 
whole forge sweat to work out Achilles his ar- 
mour. A large field is yet left unto sharper 
discerners to enlarge upon this order, to search 
out the quaternios and figured draughts of this 
nature, and (moderating the study of names, 



372 THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 

and mere nomenclature of plants), to erect 
generalities, disclose unobserved proprieties, not 
only in the vegetable sliop, but the Avhole vol- 
ume of nature ; affording delightful truths, con- 
firmable by sense and ocular observation, which 
seems to me the surest path to trace the laby- 
rinth of truth.* For though discursive inquiry 
and rational conjecture may leave liandsome 
gashes and flesh-wounds ; yet without conjunc- 
tion of this, expect no mortal or disjDatching 
blows unto error. 

,. But the quincunx t of heaven runs low, and 
't is time to close the five ports of knowledge. 
We are unwilling to spin out our awaking 
thoughts into the phantasms of sleep, which j 
often continueth prccogitations ; making cables ] 
of cobwebs, and wildernesses of handsome 
Poinsom- groves. Bcsidc, Hippocrates hath spoke so 
Artemido- httlc, and the oneirocritical masters have left i 
ruset such frigid interpretations from plants, that : 

Apomazar. ^ . f ^ ^ p t-» i 

there is little encouragement to dream or i ara- [ 
disc itself. Nor will the sweetest delight of , 
gardens afford much comfort in sleep ; wherein 
the dulness of that sense shakes hands with de- • 

* and {moderating the study of names, and mere nomenclature of \ 
plants), to erect generalities, cf-c] In these observations the im- \ 
portance and necessity of endeavouring to approximate to the ! 
true natural system of plants, is very curiously and sagaciously '. 
anticipated by our author. 

t Hyades, near the horizon about midnight, at that time. j 



THE GARDEN OF CYRUS. 373 

lectable odours ; and though in the bed of Cle- 
opatra,* can hardly with any delight raise up 
the ghost of a rose. 

Night, which Pagan theology could make the 
daughter of Chaos, affords no advantage to the 
description of order; although no lower than 
that mass can we derive its genealogy. All 
things began in order, so shall they end, and so 
shall they begin again ; according to the or- 
dainer of order and mystical mathematics of 
the city of heaven. 

Though Somnus in Homer be sent to rouse 
up Agamemnon, I find no such effects in these 
drowsy approaches of sleep. To keep our eyes 
open longer, were but to act om' Antipodes. 
The huntsmen are up in America, and they are 
already past their first sleep in Persia. But 
who can be drowsy at that hour which freed us 
from everlasting sleep? or have slumbering 
thoughts at that time, when sleep itself must 
end, and as some conjecture all shall awake 
again. 

* Strewed with roses. 



FROM 



Vulgar Errors. 



[The following passages are selected as specimens 
from different parts of the " Enquiries into Vulgar 
and Common Errors."] 



Vulgar Errors. 




DAM, upon the expostulation of God, ^^*°^'^ 
replied, " I heard thy voice in the 
garden, and because I was naked I 
hid myself." In which reply there 
was included a very gross mistake, and if with 
pertinacity maintained, a high and capital error. 
For thinking by this retirement to obscure him- 
self from God, he infringed the omnisciency 
and essential ubiquity of his Maker ; who, as 
he created all things, so is he beyond and in 
them all, not only in power, as under his sub- 
jection, or in his presence, as being in his cog- 
nition, but in his very essence, as being the 
soul of their causalities and the essential cause 
of their existences. Certainly his posterity, at 
this distance and after so perpetuated an im- 
pairment, cannot but condemn the poverty of 
his conception, that thought to obscure him- 
self from his Creator in the shade of the garden. 



378 VULGAR EERORS. 

Avho had beheld him before in the darkness of 
his chaos and the great obscurity of nothing; 
that thought to fly from God which could not fly 
himself ; or imagined that one tree should con- 
ceal his nakedness from God's eye, as another 
had revealed it unto his own. Those tormented 
spirits, that wish the mountains to cover them, 
have fallen upon desires of minor absurdity, and 
chosen ways of less improbable concealment. 
Thoudfh this be also as ridiculous unto reason 
as fruitless unto their desires ; for he that laid 
the foundations of the earth cannot be excluded 
the secrecy of the mountains ; nor can there 
anything escape the perspicacity of those eyes 
which were before light, and in whose optics 
there is no opacity. This is the consolation of 
all good men, unto whom his ubiquity aifordeth 
continual comfort and security ; and this is the 
affliction of hell, unto whom it affbrdeth de- 
spair and remediless calamity. For those rest- 
less spirits that fly the face of the Almighty, 
being deprived of the fruition of his eye, would 
also avoid the extent of his hand ; Avhich being 
impossible, their sufferings are desperate and 
their afflictions without evasion, until they can 
get out of Trismegistus's circle, that is, to ex- 
tend their wings above the universe and pitch 
beyond ubiquity. 



VULGAR ERRORS. 379 

BUT tlie mortalest enemy unto knowledge, ofadher- 
and that which hath done the greatest antiquity. 
execution upon truth, hath been a peremptory 
adhesion unto authority, and more especially 
the establishing of our belief upon the dictates 
of antiquity. For (as every capacity may 
observe) most men of ages present so super- 
stitiously do look on ages past, that the authori- 
ties of the one exceed the reasons of the other ; 
whose persons indeed, being far removed from 
our times, their works, which seldom with us 
pass uncontrolled either by contemporaries or 
immediate successors, are now become out of 
the distance of envies ; and the further removed 
from present times, are conceived to approach 
the nearer unto truth itself. Now hereby me- 
thinks we manifestly delude ourselves, and 
widely walk out of the track of truth. 

For, first, men hereby impose a thraldom on 
their times, which the ingenuity of no age 
should endure, or indeed the presumption of 
any did ever yet enjoin. Thus Hippocrates, 
about two thousand years ago, conceived it no 
injustice either to examine or refute the doc- 
trines of his predecessors ; Galen the like, and 
Aristotle most of any. Yet did not any of 
these conceive themselves infallible, or set down 
their dictates as verities irrefragable ; but when 
they either deliver their own inventions or 



380 VULGAR ERRORS. j 

reject other men's opinions, they proceed with ' 
judgment and ingenuity, estabhshing their as- | 
sertions, not only with great solidity, but sub- 
mitting them also unto the correction of future i 
discovery. ! 

Secondly, men that adore times past, con- | 
sider not that those times were once present ; | 
that is, as our own are at this instant, and we 
ourselves unto those to come as they unto us 
at present. As we rely on them, even so will ] 
those on us, and magnify us hereafter, who at : 
present condemn ourselves ; which very absurd- \ 
ity is daily committed amongst us even in the ; 
esteem and censure of our own times. And, | 
to speak impartially, old men, from whom we ; 
should expect the greatest example of wisdom, i 
do most exceed in this point of folly ; commend- ! 
ing the days of their youth they scarce remem- ; 
ber, at least well understood not; extolling ; 
those times their younger years have heard ; 
their fathers condemn, and condemning those ' 
times the gray heads of their posterity shall | 
commend. And thus is it the humor of many j 
heads to extol the days of their forefathers and 
declaim against the wickedness of times pres- , 
ent ; which notwithstanding they cannot hand- i 
somely do, without the borrowed help and satires 
of times past, condemning the vices of their j 
times by the expressions of vices in times which | 



VULGAR ERRORS. 381 

they commend, which cannot but argue the 
community of vice in both. Horace, therefore, 
Juvenal, and Persius were no prophets, akhough 
their hues did seem to indigitate and point at 
our times. There is a certain hst of vices 
committed in all ages and declaimed against by 
all authors, which will last as long as human 
nature ; or digested into commonplaces may 
serve for any theme, and never be out of date 
until doomsday. 



A 



S for popular errors, they are more nearly Tiicerrone- 

^ ^ ... ^^^^ dispo- 

founded upon an erroneous inclination of sition of 
the people, as being the most deceptible part ^^"^ ^^°^'^' 
of mankind, and ready with open arms to re- 
ceive the encroachments of error; which con- 
dition of theirs, although deducible from many 
grounds, yet shall we evidence it but from a 
few, and such as most nearly and undeniably 
declare their natures. 

How unequal discerners of truth they are, 
and openly exposed unto error, will first ap- 
pear from their unqualified intellectuals, unable 
to umpire the difficulty of its dissensions. For 
error, to speak largely, is a false judgment of 
things, or an assent unto falsity. Now whether 
the object whereunto they deliver up their as- 
sent be true or false, they are incompetent 
judges. 



382 VULGAR ERRORS. 

For the assured truth of things is derived 
from the principles of knowledge, and causes 
which determine their verities ; whereof their 
uncultivated understandings scarce holding any 
theory, they are but bad discerners of A^erity, 
and in the numerous track of error but casual- 
ly do hit the point and unity of truth. 

Their understandino: is so feeble in the dis- 
cernment of falsities and averting the errors of 
reason, that it submitteth unto the fallacies of 
sense, and is unable to rectify the error of its 
sensations. Thus the greater part of mankind, 
having but one eye of sense and reason, con- 
ceive the earth far bigger than the sun, the 
fixed stars lesser than the moon, their figures 
plain, and their spaces from earth equidistant. 
For thus their sense informeth them, and herein 
their reason cannot rectify them; and there- 
fore hopelessly continuing in mistakes, they live 
and die in their absurdities, passing their days 
in perverted apprehensions and conceptions of 
the world, derogatory unto God and the w^is- 
dom of the creation. 

Again, being so illiterate in the point of in- 
tellect and their sense so incorrected, they are 
further indisposed ever to attain unto truth, as 
commonly proceeding in those ways which have 
most reference unto sense, and wherein there 
lieth most notable and popular delusion. For 



VULGAR ERRORS. 383 

being unable to wield the intellectual arms of 
reason, they are fain to betake themselves unto 
wasters and the blunter weapons of truth, af- 
fecting the gross and sensible ways of doctrine, 
and such as will not consist with strict and 
subtile reason. Thus unto them a piece of 
rhetoric is a sufficient argument of logic, an apo- 
logue of ^sop beyond a syllogism in Barbara ; 
parables than propositions, and proverbs more 
powerful than demonstrations. And therefore 
are they led rather by example than precept, 
receiving persuasions from visible inducements 
before intellectual instructions. And therefore 
also they judge of human actions by the event ; 
for being uncapable of operable circumstances 
or rightly to judge the prudentiality of affairs, 
they only gaze upon the visible success, and 
thereafter condemn or cry up the whole pro- 
gression. And so from this ground in the lec- 
ture of Holy Scripture, their apprehensions are 
commonly confined unto the literal sense of 
the text ; from whence have ensued the gross 
and duller sort of heresies. For not attainino; 
the deuteroscopy and second intention of the 
words, they are fain to omit their superconse- 
quences, coherencies, figures, or tropologies, and 
are not sometimes persuaded by fire beyond 
their literalities. And therefore all things in- 
visible but unto intellectual discernments, to 



384 VULGAR ERRORS. ;| 

\ 
humour the grossness of their comprehensions, - 

have been degraded from their proper forms, ' 
and God himself dishonoured into manual ex- ' 
pressions. And so likewise, being unprovided 
or unsufficient for higher speculations, they will ' 
always betake themselves unto sensible repre- ; 
sentations, and can hardly be restrained the ■ 
dulness of idolatry ; a sin or folly not only | 
derogatory unto God, but men ; overthrowing 
their reason as well as his divinity ; in brief, a 
reciprocation, or rather an inversion of the cre- 
ation, making God one way, as he made us i 
another; that is, after our image, as he made \ 
us after his own. j 

Moreover, their understandino:, thus weak in t 
itself, and perverted by sensible delusions, is yet J 
further impaired by the dominion of their appe- | 
tite, that is, the irrational and brutal part of the ■ 
soul ; which, lording it over the sovereign fac- 
ulty, internipts the actions of that noble part, 
and chokes those tender sparks which Adam 1 
hath left them of reason ; and therefore they do I 
not only swarm with errors, but vices depend- 
ing thereon. Thus they commonly affect no 
man any further than he deserts his reason or 
complies with their aberrancies. Hence they 
embrace not virtue for itself, but its reward ; 
and the argument from pleasure or utility is far 
more powerful than that from virtuous honesty ; 



VULGAR ERRORS. 385 

which Mahomet and his contrivers well under- 
stood, when he set out the felicity of his heaven 
by the contentments of flesh and the delights of 
sense, slightly passing over the accomplishment 
of the soul and the beatitude of that part which 
earth and visibilities too weakly affect. But 
the wisdom of our Saviour and the simplicity 
of his truth proceeded another way, defying the 
popular provisions of happiness from sensible 
expectations, placing his felicity in things re- 
moved from sense, and the intellectual enjoy- 
ment of God. And therefore the doctrine of 
the one was never afraid of universities, or en- 
deavoured the banishment of learning like the 
other. And though Galen doth sometimes nib- 
ble at Moses, and beside the Apostate Christian, 
some heathens have questioned his philosophical 
part or treatise of the creation ; yet is there 
surely no reasonable Pagan that will not admire 
the rational and well-grounded precepts of 
Christ, whose life, as it was conformable unto 
his doctrine, so was that unto the highest rules 
of reason, and must therefore flourish in the 
advancement of learning, and the perfection of 
parts best able to comprehend it. 

Again, their individual imperfections being 
great, they are moreover enlarged by their ag- 
gregation ; and being erroneous in their single 
numbers, once huddled together they will be 
25 



386 VULGAR ERRORS. ; 

error itself. For beine: a confusion of knaves 

? I 

and fools, and a farraginous concurrence of all ■ 

conditions, tempers, sexes, and ages, it is but j 
natural if their determinations be monstrous 
and many ways inconsistent witli truth. And \ 
therefore wise men have always applauded their ] 
own iudo;ment in the contradiction of that of the i 
people ; and their soberest adversaries have ever 
afforded them the style of fools and madmen ; \ 
and to speak impartially, their actions have i 
often made good these epithets. Had Orestes ; 
been judge, he would not have acquitted that ] 
Lystrian rabble of madness, who, upon a visible ; 
miracle, falling into so high a conceit of Paul : 
and Barnabas, that they termed the one Jupi- 
ter, the other Mercurius ; that they brought 
oxen and garlaijds, and were hardly restrained 
from sacrificing unto them ; did notwithstand- 
ing suddenly after fall upon Paul, and, having 
stoned him, drew him for dead out of the city. 
It might have hazarded the sides of Democri- 
tus had he been present at that tumult of De- 
metrius, when, the people flocking together in 
great numbers, some cried one thing and some 
another, and the assembly Avas confused, and 
the most part knew not wherefore they were 
come together ; notwithstanding, all with one 
voice for the space of two hours cried out, 
" Great is Diana of the Ephesians." It had 



VULGAR ERRORS. 387 

overcome the patience of Job, as it did the 
meekness of Moses, and would surely have 
mastered any but the longanimity and lasting 
sufferance of God, had they beheld the mutiny 
in the wilderness, when, after ten great miracles 
in Egypt and some in the same place, they 
melted down their stolen ear-rings into a calf, 
and monstrously cried out, " These be thy gods, 
O Israel, wdiich brought thee up out of the land 
of Egypt." It much accuseth the impatience 
of Peter, who could not endure the staves of 
the multitude, and is the greatest example of 
lenity in our Saviour, when he desired of God 
forgiveness unto those, who, having one day 
brought him into the city in triumph, did pres- 
ently after act all dishonour upon him, and noth- 
incj could be heard but "Crucifio;e" in their 
courts. Certainly he that considereth these 
things in God's peculiar people will easily dis- 
cern how little of truth there is in the ways of 
the multitude ; and though sometimes they are 
flattered with that aphorism, will hardly believe 
the voice of the people to be the voice of God. 

Lastly, being thus divided from truth in them- 
selves, they are yet farther removed by adve- 
nient deception. For true it is, (and I hope I 
shall not offend their vulgarities if I say,) they 
are daily mocked into error by subtler devisors, 
and have been expressly deluded by all profes- 



388 VULGAR ERRORS. 

sibns and ages. Thus the priests of elder time 
have put upon them many incredible conceits, 
not only deluding their apprehensions with ario- 
lation, soothsaying, and such obhque idolatries, 
but winning their credulities unto the literal and 
downright adorement of cats, lizards, and bee- 
tles. And thus also in some Christian churches, 
wherein is presumed an irreprovable truth, if all 
be true that is suspected, or half what is related, 
there have not wanted many strange deceptions, 
and some thereof are still confessed by the name 
of pious fravids. Thus Theudas, an impostor, 
was able to lead away four thousand into the 
wilderness, and the delusions of Mahomet al- 
most the fourth part of mankind. Thus all her- 
esies, how gi'oss soever, have found a welcome 
with the people. For thus many of the Jews 
were wrought mto the belief that Herod was 
the Messias ; and David George of Ley den, and 
Arden, were not without a party amongst the 
people, who maintained the same opinion of 
themselves almost in our days. 

Saltinbancoes, quacksalvers, and charlatans 
deceive them in lower degrees. "Were ^sop 
alive, the Piazza and Pont-Neuf could not but 
speak their fallacies ; meanwhile there are too 
many, whose cries cannot conceal their mischief. 
For their impostures are full of cruelty and 
worse than any other, deluding not only unto 



VULGAR ERRORS. 389 

pecuniary defraudations, but the irreparable de- 
ceit of death. 

Astrologers, which pretend to be of Cabala 
with the stars, (such I mean as abuse that wor- 
thy inquiry,) have not been wanting in their 
deceptions ; who, having won their belief unto 
principles whereof they make great doubt them- 
selves, have made them believe that arbitrary 
events below have necessary causes above ; 
whereupon their credulities assent unto any 
prognostics, and daily swallow the predictions 
of men, which, considering the independency 
of their causes and contingency in their events, 
are only in the prescience of God. 

Fortune-tellers, jugglers, geomancers, and the 
like incantatory impostors, though commonly 
men of inferior rank, and from whom without 
illumination they can expect no more than from 
themselves, do daily and professedly delude 
them ; unto whom (what is deplorable in men 
and Christians) too many applying themselves, 
betwixt jest and earnest, betray the cause of 
truth, and insensibly make up the legionary 
body of error. 

Statists and politicians, unto whom " ragione 
di stato" is the first considerable, as though it 
were their business to deceive the people, as a 
maxim do hold that truth is to be concealed 
from them ; unto whom although they reveal 



390 VULGAR ERRORS. 

the visible design, yet do they commonly con- 
ceal the capital intention. And therefore have 
they ever been the instruments of great designs, 
yet seldom understood the true intention of any ; 
accomplishing the drifts of wiser heads, as inan- 
imate and imiorant assents the general design of 
the world ; who though in some latitude of sense 
and in a natural cognition perform their proper 
actions, yet do they unknowingly concur unto 
higher ends, and blindly advance the great in- 
tention of nature. Now how far they may be 
kept in ignorance, a great example there is in 
the people of Rome, who never knew the true 
and proper name of their own city. For beside 
that common appellation received by the citi- 
zens, it had a proper and secret name concealed 
from them. ** Cujus alterum nomen dicere se- 
cretis ceremonianim nefas habetur," says Pliny ; 
lest the name thereof beincr discovered unto 
their enemies, their penates and patronal gods 
might be called forth by charms and incanta- 
tions. For according unto the tradition of ma- 
gicians, the tutelary spirits will not remove at 
common appellations, but at the proper names 
of things whereunto they are protectors. 

Thus having been deceived by themselves, 
and continually deluded by others, they must 
needs be stuffed with errors, and even overrun 
with these inferior falsities; whereunto whoso- 



VULGAR ERRORS. 391 

ever shall resign their reasons, either from the 
root of deceit in themselves, or inability to re- 
sist such trivial ingannations from others, al- 
though their condition and fortunes may place 
them many spheres above the multitude, yet 
are they still within the line of vulgarity, and 
democratical enemies of truth. 



THE falling of salt is an authentic presage- or the faii- 
ment of ill luck, nor can every temper ^^^^ ^^^' 
contemn it : from whence notwithstandino; noth- 
ing can be naturally feared ; nor was the same 
a general prognostic of future evil among the 
ancients, but a particular omination concerning 
the breach of friendship. For salt, as incor- 
ruptible, was the symbol of friendship, and, be- 
fore the other service, was offered unto their 
guests ; which, if it casually fell, was accounted 
ominous, and their amity of no duration. But 
whether salt were not only a symbol of friend- 
ship with man, but also a figure of amity and 
reconciliation with God, and was therefore ob- 
served in sacrifices, is a higher speculation. 



TO break the egg-shell after the meat is or break 
out, we are taught in our childhood, and sheii/''^ 
practise it all our lives ; which nevertheless is 



392 VULGAR ERRORS. 

but a superstitious relic, according to the judg- 
ment of Pliny, " Hue pertinet ovorum, ut ex- 
sorbuerit quisque, calices protinus frangi, aut 
eosdem coclilearibus perforari " ; and the intent 
hereof was to prevent witchcraft ; for lest witch- 
es should draw or prick their names therein, and 
veneficiously mischief their persons, they broke 
the shell, as Dalecampius hath observed. 



Of the true- ^ | ^HE truc lovcr's kuot is very much magni- 
^^ot jL fied, and still retained in presents of love 

among us ; which, though in all points it doth 
not make out, had perhaps its original from 
" Nodus Herculanus," or that which was called 
Hercules's knot, resembling the snaky compli- 
cation in the caduceus or rod of Hermes ; and 
in which form the zone or woollen girdle of the 
bride was fastened, as Turnebus observeth in 
his " Adversaria." 



or car 
tingling, 



Of the '\ I T' HEN our cheek burnetii or ear tin 

check 



W. 
^ gleth, we usually say that somebody is 

talking of us, which is an ancient conceit, and 

ranked among superstitious opinions by Pliny. 

" Absentes tinnitu aurium prsesentire sermones 

de se receptum est," according to that distich 

noted by Dalecampius. 



VULGAR ERRORS. 393 

" Gamila, quid totis resonas mihi noctibus, auris ? 
Nescio quern dicis nunc meminisse mei." 

Wliicli is a conceit hardly to be made out with- 
out the concession of a signifying Genius, or 
universal Mercury, conducting sounds unto their 
distant subjects, and teaching us to hear by 
touch. 



w 



HEN we desire to confine our words, ofspeak- 

1.1 1 ing under 

we commonly say they are spoken un- the rose. 



der the rose ; which expression is commenda- 
ble, if the rose, from any natural property, may 
be the symbol of silence, as Nazianzen seems 
to imply in these translated verses : — 

" Utque latet rosa verna suo putamine clausa, 
Sic OS vincla ferat, validisque arctetur habenis, 
Indicatque suis prolixa silentia labris." 

And is also tolerable, if by desiring a secrecy 
to words spoke under the rose, we only mean 
in society and compotation, from the ancient 
custom in symposiac meetings to wear chaplets 
of roses about their heads ; and so we condemn 
not the German custom, which over the table 
describeth a rose in the ceiling. But more 
considerable it is, if the original were such as 
Lemnius and others have recorded, that the 
rose was the flower of Venus, which Cupid 
consecrated unto Harpocrates, the god of si- 



394 



VULGAR ERRORS. 



lence, and was therefore an emblem thereof, 
to conceal the pranks of venery ; as is declared 
in this tetrastich : — 

" Est rosa flos Veneris, cujus quo facta laterent, 
Harpocrati matris, dona dicavit Amor; 
Inde rosam mensis hospes suspendit amicis, 
Convivas ut sub ea dicta tacenda sciant." 



THAT smoke doth follow the fairest, is a 
usual saying with us and in many parts 
of Europe ; whereof although there seem no 
natural ground, yet is it the continuation of a 
very ancient opinion, as Petrus Victorius and 
Casauhon have observed from a passage in Athe- 
najus ; wherein a parasite thus describeth him- 
self:— 

" To every table first I come, 
Whence Porridge I am called by some ; 
A Capaneus at stairs I am, 
To enter any room a ram ; 
Like whips and thongs to all I ply, 
Like smoke unto the fair I fly." 



TO sit cross-legged, or with our fingers pec- 
tinated or shut together, is accounted bad, 
and friends will persuade us from it. The same 
conceit religiously possessed the ancients, as is 
observable from Pliny, — " Poplites alternis ge- 
nibus imponere nefas olim " ; and also from 



VULGAR HEROES. 395 

Athenaeus, that it was an old veneficious prac- 
tice, and Juno is made in this posture to hin- 
der the deHvery of Alcmaena. And therefore, 
as Pierius observeth, in the medal of Julia Pia, 
the right hand of Venus was made extended, 
with the inscription of Venus Genetrix ; for the 
complication or pectination of the fingers was 
a hieroglyphic of impediment, as in that place 
he declare th. 



T 



HE set and statary time of paring of nails or the par- 
and cutting of hair is thought by many a ° 



point of consideration ; which is perhaps but the 
continuation of an ancient superstition. For 
piaculous it was unto the Romans to pare their 
nails uj)on the Nundinae, observed every ninth 
day ; and was also feared by others in certain 
days of the week, according to that of Auso- 
nius, " Ungues Mercurio, barbam Jove, Cypride 
crines," and was one part of the wickedness 
that filled up the measure of Manasses, when 
't is delivered that " he observed times." * 



A COMMON fashion it is to nourish hair ^^^^'"^ 
upon the moles of the face ; which is moies. 
the perpetuation of a very ancient custom, and, 

* 2 Chronicles xxxiii. 6. 



396 VULGAR ERRORS, 

tliougli innocently practised among us, may have 
a superstitious original, according to that of Pli- 
ny, " Naevos in facie tondere religiosum habent 
nunc multi." From the like might proceed the 
fears of polling elvelocks, or complicated hairs 
of the head, and also of locks longer than the 
other hair ; they being votary at first, and dedi- 
cated upon occasion, preserved with great care, 
and accordingly esteemed by others, as appears 
by that of Apuleius, " Adjuro per dulcem ca- 
pilli tui nodulum." 



Of lions' A CUSTOM there is in most parts of Eu- 

heads upon LA ^ ^ . 

spouts. -L \^ rope to adorn aqueducts, spouts, and cis- 
terns with lions' heads ; which, though no illaud- 
able ornament, is of an Egyptian genealogy, 
who practised the same under a symbolical 
illation. For because, the sun being in Leo, 
the flood of Nilus was at the full, and water 
became conveyed into every part, they made the 
spouts of their aqueducts through the head of a 
lion. And upon some celestial respects it is not 
improbable the great Mogul or Indian king doth 
bear for his arms a Hon and the sun. 



Of the pic- 
ture of God. 



THE picture of the Creator, or God the 
Father, in the shape of an old man, is a 



VULGAR ERRORS. 397 

dangerous piece, and in this fecundity of sects 
may revive the Anthropomorphites ; which, al- 
though maintained from the expression of Dan- 
iel, " I beheld where the Ancient of days did 
sit, whose hair of his head was Hke the pure 
wool," yet may it be also derivative from the 
hieroglyphical description of the Egyptians, who, 
to express their Eneph, or Creator of the world, 
described an old man in a blue mantle, with an 
egg in his movith, which was the emblem of the 
world. Surely those heathens, that, notwith- 
standing the exemplary advantage in heaven, 
would endure no pictures of sun or moon, as 
being visible unto all the world, and needing 
no representation, do evidently accuse the prac- 
tice of those pencils that will describe invisi- 
bles. And he that challenged the boldest hand 
unto the picture of an echo, must laugh at 
this attempt, not only in the description of 
invisibility, but circumscription of ubiquity, and 
fetching under lines incomprehensible circu- 
larity. 

The pictures of the Egyptians were more 
tolerable, and in their sacred letters more ve- 
niably expressed the apprehension of Divinity. 
For though they implied the same by an eye 
upon a sceptre, by an eagle's head, a crocodile, 
and the like, yet did these manual descriptions 
pretend no corporal representations ; nor could 



Of the sun, 
moon, and 
■nrinda. 



398 VULGAR ERRORS. 

the people misconceive tlie same mito real cor- 
respondencies. So though the Cherub carried 
some apprehension of Divinity, yet was it not 
conceived to be the shape thereof; and so per- 
haps, because it is metaphorically predicated 
of God that he is a consuming fire, he may be 
harmlessly described by a flaming representa- 
tion. Yet if, as some will have it, all mediocrity 
of folly is foolish, and, because an unrequitable 
evil may ensue, an indifferent convenience must 
be omitted, we shall not urge such represent- 
ments ; we could spare the holy lamb for the 
picture of our Saviour, and the dove or fiery 
tongues to represent the Holy Ghost. 



THE sun and moon are usually described 
with human faces. Whether herein there 
be not a Pajjan imitation, and those visao^es at 
first implied Apollo and Diana, we may make 
some doubt ; and we find the statue of the sun 
was framed with rays about the head, which 
were the indeciduous and unshaven locks of 
Apollo. We should be too iconomachal* to 
question the pictures of the winds as commonly 
drawn in human heads, and with their cheeks 
distended ; which notwithstanding we find con- 
demned by Minucius, as answering poetical 

* Quarrelsome with pictures. 



VULGAR ERRORS. 399 

fancies, and the gentile description of ^olus, 
Boreas, and the feigned deities of the winds. 



WE shall not, I hope, disparage the resur- or the sun 
rection of our Redeemer, if we say ^^'^^"s- 
the sun doth not dance on Easter day. And 
though we would willingly assent unto any sym- 
pathetical exultation, yet cannot conceive therein 
any more than a tropical expression. Whether 
any such motion there were in that day wherein 
Christ arose. Scripture hath not revealed, which 
hath been punctual in other records concerning 
solary miracles ; and the Areopagite that was 
amazed at the eclipse took no notice of this. 
And if metaphorical expressions go so far, we 
may be bold to affirm, not only that one sun 
danced, but two arose that day ; that light 
appeared at his nativity, and darkness at his 
death, and yet a light at both ; for even that 
darkness was a light unto the Gentiles, illumi- 
nated by that obscurity ; that 't was the first 
time the sun set above the horizon ; that al- 
though there were darkness above the earth, 
there was light beneath it ; nor dare we say that 
hell was dark if he were in it. 



400 VULGAR ERRORS. 



devil, 



ofthe y* CONCEIT there is, that the devil 
jLjL commonly appeareth with a cloven hoof; 
wherein, although it seem excessively ridiculous, 
there may be somewhat of truth ; and the gi'ound 
thereof at first might be his jBrequent appear- 
ing in the shape of a goat, which answers that 
description. This was the opinion of ancient 
Christians concerning the apparition of Panites, 
Fauns, and Satyrs ; and in this form we read 
of one that appeared unto Antony in the wil- 
derness. The same is also confirmed from ex- 
positions of Holy Scripture , for whereas it is 
said, " Thou shalt not offer unto devils," the 
original word is " seghnirim," that is, rough 
and hairy goats, because in that shape the devil 
most often appeared ; as is expounded by the 
rabbins, as Tremellius hath also explained, and 
as the word Ascimah, the god of Emath, is 
by some conceived. Nor did he only assume 
this shape in elder times, but commonly in later 
days, especially in the place of his worship, if 
there be any truth in the confession of witches, 
and as in many stories it stands confirmed by 
Bodinus. And therefore a goat is not improp- 
erly made the hieroglyphic of the devil, as Pie- 
rius hath expressed it. So might it be the 
emblem of sin, as it was in the sin-offering; 
and so likewise of wicked and sinful men, ac- 
cording to the expression of Scripture in the 



VULGAR ERRORS. 401 

method of the last distribution, when our Sav- 
iour shall separate the sheep from the goats, 
that is, the sons of the Lamb from the children 
of the devil. 



THAT temperamental dignotions and con- or spots ( 
jecture of prevalent humours may be col- 
lected from spots in our nails, we are not averse 
to concede, but yet not ready to admit sundry 
divinations vulgarly raised upon them. Nor do 
we observe it verified in others, what Cardan 
discovered as a property in himself, to have 
found therein some signs of most events that 
ever happened unto him ; or that there is much 
considerable in that doctrine of chiromancy, that 
spots in the top of the nails do signify things 
past, in the middle things present, and at the 
bottom events to come ; that white specks pre- 
sage our felicity, blue ones our misfortunes ; 
that those in the nail of the thumb have sig- 
nifications of honor, those in the forefinger of 
riches, and so respectively in other fingers, (ac- 
cording to planetical relations, from whence they 
receive their names,) as Tricassus hath taken 
up, and Picciolus well rejecteth. 

We shall not proceed to query what truth 
there is in palmistry, or divination from those 
lines in our hands of high denomination. Al- 
26 



402 VULGAR ERRORS. 

though, if anything be therein, it seems not 
confinable unto man; but other creatures are 
also considerable ; as is the forefoot of the mole, 
and especially of the monkey ; wherein we 
have observed the table line, that of life, and 
of the liver. 



Of lights r I iHAT candles and lights burn dim and 

blue. X blue at the apparition of spirits, may be ' 

true, if the ambient air be full of sulphurous ' 

spirits, as it happeneth ofttimes in mines, where j 

damps and acid exhalations are able to extin- i 

guish them ; and may be also verified, when \ 

spirits do make themselves visible by bodies of i 

such effluviums. But of lower consideration is I 

the common foretellino; of strano;ers, from the 1 

fungus parcels about tlie wicks of candles ; ' 
which only signifieth a moist and pluvious air 
about them, hindering;; the avolation of the lii^ht 

and favillous particles ; whereupon they are . 

forced to settle upon the snast. | 

1 



wearing of 



Of the ^ ^ I THOUGH coral doth properly preserve 

JL and fasten the teeth in men, yet is it 

used in children to make an easier passage for 

them, and for that intent is worn about their 

necks. But whether this custom were not su- 



VULGAR ERRORS. 403 

perstitiously founded, as presumed an amulet or 
defensative against fascination, is not beyond all 
dovibt. For the same is delivered by PKny. 
" Aruspices religiosum coralli gestamen amoli- 
endis periculis arbitrantur ; et surculi infantise 
adalligati, tutelam habere creduntur.'' 



A 



STRANGE kind of exploration and pe- ofthedi- 
culiar way of rhabdomancy is that which 



is used in mineral discoveries, that is, with a 
forked hazel, commonly called Moses's rod, 
which, freely held forth, will stir and play if 
any mine be under it. And though many there 
are who have attempted to make it good, yet, 
until better information, we are of opinion with 
Agricola, that in itself it is a fruitless explora- 
tion, strongly scenting of Pagan derivation and 
the " virgula divina," proverbially magnified of 
old. The ground whereof were the magical 
rods in poets, that of Pallas in Homer, that of 
Mercury that charmed Argus, and that of Circe 
which transformed the followers of Ulysses ; too 
boldly usurping the name of Moses's rod, from 
which notwithstanding, and that of Aaron, were 
probably occasioned the fables of all the rest. 
For that of Moses must needs be famous unto 
the Egyptians, and that of Aaron unto many 
other nations, as being preserved in the ark 



404 VULGAR ERRORS. 

until the destruction of the temple built by Sol- 
omon. 



Of discov. 
erina; mat 



\ PRACTICE there is among us to deter- 
bookor ^ i^qqJ,^ ^^^ letting fall a staff; which notwith- 



ters°by -^^^ mine doubtful matters by the opening of 



staff. 



standing are ancient fragments of Pagan divi- 
nations. The first an imitation of " Sortes Ho- 
mericae" or " Virgilianse," drawing determina- 
tions from verses casually occurring. The same 
was practised by Severus, who entertained omi- 
nous hopes of the empire, from that verse in 
Virgil, " Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, 
memento " ; and Gordianus, who reigned but 
few days, was discouraged by another, that is, 
" Ostendent terris hunc tantum fata, nee ultra 
Esse sinunt." Nor was this only performed in 
heathen authors, but upon the sacred texts of 
Scripture, as Gregorius Turonensis hath left 
some account, and as the practice of the Em- 
peror Herachus, before his expedition into Asia 
Minor, is delivered by Cedrenus. 

As for the divination or decision from the 
staff, it is an augurial relic, and the practice 
thereof is accused by God himself. " My peo- 
ple ask counsel at their stocks, and their staff 
declareth unto them." * Of this kind of rhab- 

* Hosea iv. 12. 



VULGAR ERRORS. 405 

domancy was that practised by Nabuchadonosor 
in that Chaldean miscellany dehvered by Eze- 
kiel, — " The king of Babylon stood at the part- 
ing of the way, at the head of two ways, to use 
divination ; he made his arrows bright, he con- 
sulted with images, he looked in the liver; at 
his right hand was the divination for Jerusa- 
lem."* That is, as Estius expounded it, the 
left way leading unto Rabbah, the chief city of 
the Ammonites, and the right unto Jerusalem, 
he consulted idols and entrails, he threw up a 
bundle of arrows to see which way they would 
light ; and falling on the right hand, he marched 
towards Jerusalem. A like way of belomancy, 
or divination by arrows, hath been in request 
with Scythians, Alanes, Germans, with the Af- 
ricans and Turks of Algiers. But of another 
nature was that which was practised by Elisha, 
when, by an arrow shot from an eastern win- 
dow, he presignified the destniction of Syria; 
or when, accordinor unto the three strokes of 
Joash with an arrow upon the ground, he fore- 
told the number of his victories. For thereby 
the spirit of God particulared the same, and de- 
termined the strokes of the king unto three, 
which the hopes of the prophet expected in twice 
that number. 

We are unwilling to enlarge concerning many 

* Ezekiel xxi. 21. 



406 VULGAR ERRORS. 

other; only referring unto sober examination, 
what natural effects can reasonably be expected, 
when to prevent the ephialtes or nightmare we 
hang up a hollow stone in our stables ; when for 
amulets against agues we use the chips of gal- 
lows and places of execution ; when for warts 
we rub our hands before the moon ; or commit 
any maculated part unto the touch of the dead. 
Swarms hereof our learned Selden and critical 
philologers might illustrate, whose abler per- 
formances our adventures do but solicit. Mean- 
while I hope they will plausibly receive our 
attempts, or candidly correct our misconjec- 
tures. 



•i 




Miscellaneous Papers 




Fragment on Mummies. 




ISE Egypt, prodigal of her embalm- 
ments, wrapped up her princes and 
great commanders in aromatical 
folds, and, studiously extracting 
from corruptible bodies their corruption, am- 
bitiously looked forward to immortality; from 
which vainglory we have become acquainted 
with many remnants of the old world, who 
could discourse unto us of the great things of 
yore, and tell us strange tales of the sons of 
Misraim, and ancient braveries of Egypt. Won- 
derful indeed are the preserves of time, which 
openeth unto us mummies from crypts and pyr- 
amids, and mammoth bones from caverns and 
excavations ; whereof man hath found the best 
preservation, appearing unto us in some sort 
fleshly, while beasts must be fain of an osseous 
continuance. 

In what original this practice of the Egyp- 



410 FRAGMENT ON MUMMIES. 

tians had root, divers authors dispute; while 
some place the origin hereof in the desire to 
prevent the separation of the soul, by keeping 
the body untabified, and alluring the spiritual 
part to remain by sweet and precious odours. 
But all this was but fond inconsideration. The 
soul, having broken its * * * *, is not stayed 
by bands and cerecloths, nor to be recalled by 
Sabaean odours, but fleeth to the place of invisi- 
bles, the uhi of spirits, and needeth a surer than 
Hermes's seal to imprison it to its medicated 
trunk, which yet subsists anomalously in its 
indestructible case, and, Uke a widow looking 
for her husband, anxiously awaits its return. 
***** 

Of Joseph it is said, that they embalmed 
him.; and he was put in a coffin in Egypt, 
When the Scripture saith that the Egyptians 
mourned for him three score and ten days, 
some doubt may be made, from the practices 
as delivered by Herodotus, who saith that 
the time allowed for preserving the body and 
mourning was seventy days. Amongst the 
Rabbins, there is an old tradition, that Joseph's 
body was dried by smoke, and preserved in the 
river Nile, till the final departure of the cliildren 
of Israel from Egypt, according to the Targum 
of Uzziel. Sckichardus delivereth it as the 
opinion of R. Abraham Seba, that this was 



FRAGMENT ON MUMMIES. 411 

done in contempt of Egypt, as unworthy of the 
depositure of that great patriarch ; also as a 
type of the infants who were drowned in that 
river, whereto Sckichardus subjoineth that it 
was physically proper to prevent conniption. 
The Rabbins likewise idly dream that these 
bones were carried away by Moses about a 
century after, when they departed into Egypt, 
though how a coffin could be preserved in that 
large river, so as to be found again, they are 
not agreed; and some fly after their manner 
to Schem-hamphorasch, which most will regard 
as vain babblino;s. 

That mummy is medicinal, the Arabian Doc- 
tor Haly dehvereth, and divers confirm ; but 
of the particular uses thereof, there is much 
discrepancy of opinion. Wliile Hofmannus pre- 
scribes the same to epileptics, Johan de Muralto 
commends the use thereof to gouty persons ; 
Bacon hkewise extols it as a stiptic : and Jmi- 
kenius considers it of efficacy to resolve coagu- 
lated blood. Meanwhile, we hardly applaud 
Francis the First of France, who always car- 
ried mummies with him as a panacea against 
all disorders ; and were the efficacy thereof 
more clearly made out, scarce conceive the use 
thereof allowable in physic, exceeding the bar- 
barities of Cambyses, and turnmg old heroes 
unto unworthy potions. Shall Egypt lend out 



412 FRAGMENT ON MUMMIES. 

her ancients unto cliinirgeons and apothecaries, 
and Cheops and Psammitticus be weighed unto 
us for drugs? Shall we eat of Chamnes and 
Amosis in electuaries and pills, and be cured 
by cannibal mixtures ? Surely such diet is dis- 
mal vampirism ; and exceeds in horror the black 
banquet of Domitian, not to be paralleled except 
in those Arabian feasts, wherein Ghoules feed 
horribly. 

But the common opinion of the virtues of 
mummy bred great consumption thereof, and 
princes and great men contended for this strange 
panacea, wherein Jews dealt largely, manuflic- 
turincr mummies from dead carcasses, and givino; 
them the names of kings, while specifics were 
compounded from crosses and gibbet leavings. 
There wanted not a set of Arabians who coun- 
terfeited mummies so accurately, that it needed 
great skill to distinguish the false from the true. 
Queasy stomachs would hardly fancy the doubt- 
ful potion, wherein one might so easily swallow 
a cloud for his Juno, and defraud the fowls of 
the air while in conceit enjoying the conserves 
of Canopus. 

Radzivil hath a strange story of some mum- 
mies which he had stowed in seven chests, 
and was canying on shipboard from Egypt, 
when a priest on the mission, while at his 



FRAGMENT ON MUMMIES. 413 

prayers, was tormented by two ethnic spectres 
or devils, a man and a woman, both black and 
horrible ; and at the same time a great storm 
at sea, which threatened shipwreck, till at last 
they were enforced to pacify the enraged sea, 
and put those demons to flight by throwing 
their mummy freight overboard, and so with 
difficulty escaped. What credit the relation 
of the worthy person deserves, we leave unto 
others. Surely, if time, these demons were Sa- 
tan's emissaries, appearing in forms answerable 
unto Horus and Mompta, the old deities of 
Egypt, to delude unhappy men. For those 
dark caves and mummy repositories are Satan's 
abodes, wherein he speculates and rejoices on 
human vainglory, and keeps those kings and 
conquerors, whom alive he bewitched, whole 
for that great day, when he will claim his own, 
and marshal the kino-s of Nilus and Thebes 
in sad procession unto the pit. 

Death, that fatal necessity which so many 
would overlook, or blinkingly survey, the old 
Egyptians held continually before their eyes. 
Their embalmed ancestors they carried about 
at their banquets, as holding them still a part 
of their families, and not thrusting them from 
their places at feasts. They wanted not like- 
wise a sad preacher at their tables to admonish 
them daily of death, surely an unnecessary 



414 FRAGMENT ON MUMMIES. 

discourse while tliey banqueted in sepulchres. 
Whether this were not makino- too much of 
death, as tending to assuefaction, some reason 
there is to doubt ; but certain it is that such 
practices would hardly be embraced by our 
modern gourmands, who like not to look on 
faces of morta^ or be elbowed by mummies. 

Yet in those huge structures and pyramidal 
immensities, of the builders whereof so little 
is known, they seemed not so much to raise 
sepulchres or temples to death, as to contemn 
and disdain it, astonishing heaven with their 
audacities, and lookino; forward with delio;ht to 
their interment in those eternal piles. Of their 
living habitations they made little account, con- 
ceiving of them but as hospitia^ or inns, while 
they adorned the sepulchres of the dead, and, 
planting thereon lasting bases, defied the crum- 
bling touches of time and the misty vaporous- 
ness of oblivion. Yet all were but Babel vani- 
ties. Time sadly overcometh all things, and 
is now dominant, and sitteth upon a sphinx, 
and looketh .unto Memphis and old Thebes, 
while his sister Oblivion reclineth semisomnous 
on a pyramid, gloriously triumphing, making 
puzzles of Titanian erections, and turning old 
glories into dreams. History sinketh beneath 
her cloud. The traveller, as he paceth amaz- 
edly through those deserts, asketh of her, who 



FRAGMENT ON MUMMIES. 415 

builcled them? and she mumbleth something, 
but what it is he heareth not. 

Egypt itself is now become the land of obliv- 
iousness, and doteth. Her ancient civility is 
gone, and her glory hath vanished as a phan- 
tasma. Her youthful days are over, and her 
face hath become wrinkled and tetric. She 
poreth not upon the heavens, astronomy is dead 
unto her, and knowledge maketh other cycles. 
Canopus is afar oif, Memnon resoundeth not 
to the sun, and Nilus heareth strange voices. 
Her monuments are but hieroglyphically sem- 
piternal. Osiris and Anubis, her averruncous 
deities, have departed, while Orus yet remains 
dimly shadowing the principle of vicissitude 
and the effluxion of things, but receiveth little 
oblation. 



On Dreams. 




]| ALF our days we pass in the sliadow 
• of the earth; and the brother of 
death exacteth a third part of our 
lives. A good part of our sleep 
is peered out with visions and fantastical ob- 
jects, wherein we are confessedly deceived. 
The day supplieth us with truths ; the night 
with fictions and falsehoods, which uncomforta- 
bly divide the natural account of our beings. 
And, therefore, having passed the day in sober 
labours and rational enquiries of truth, we are 
fain to betake ourselves unto such a state of 
being, wherein the soberest heads have acted 
all the monstrosities of melancholy, and which 
unto open eyes are no better than folly and 
madness. 

Happy are they that go to bed with grand 
music, like Pythagoras, or have ways to com- 
pose the fantastical spirit, whose unruly wan- 



ON DREAMS. 417 

derings take off inward sleep, filling our heads 
with St. Anthony's visions, and the dreams of 
Lipara in the sober chambers of rest. 

Virtuous thoughts of the day lay up good 
treasures for the night ; whereby the impres- 
sions of imaginary forms arise into sober simili- 
tudes, acceptable unto our slumbering selves and 
preparatory unto divine impressions.* Hereby 
Solomon's sleep was happy. Thus prepared, 
Jacob might well dream of angels upon a pillow 
of stone. And the best sleep of Adam might 
be the best of any after.f 

That there should be divine dreams seems 
unreasonably doubted by Aristotle. That there 
are demoniacal dreams we have little reason to 
doubt. Why may there not be angelical ? If 
there be guardian spirits, they may not be in- 
actively about us in sleep ; but may sometimes 
order our dreams : and many strange hints, 
instigations, or discourses, which are so amazing 
unto us, may arise from such foundations. 

But the phantasms of sleep do commonly 
Avalk in the great road of natural and animal 

* Virtuous thoughts^ cfc] See an exquisite passage on Dreams 
in Reliyio Medici {ante, pp. 145-147). 

t the best sleep of Adam, ^-c] The only sleep of Adam re- 
corded is that which God caused to fall upon him, and which 
resTilted in the creation of woman. It does not very clearly ap- 
pear whether Sir Thomas calls it the best sleep of Adam in allu- 
sion to its origin or its result. 
27 



418 ON DREAMS. 

dreams, wherein the thoughts or actions of the 
day are acted over and echoed in the night. 
Who can therefore wonder that Chrysostom 
should dream of St. Paul, who dally read his 
epistles ; or that Cardan, whose head was so 
taken up about the stars, should dream that 
his soul was in the moon ! Pious persons, 
whose thoughts are daily busied about heaven, 
and the blessed state thereof, can hardly escape 
the nightly phantasms of it, which though some- 
times taken for illuminations, or divine dreams, 
yet rightly perpended may prove but animal 
visions, and natural night-scenes of their awak- 
ing contemplations. 

Many dreams are made out by sagacious 
exposition, and from the signature of their 
subjects ; carrying their interpretation in their 
fundamental sense and mystery of similitude, 
whereby, he that understands upon what natu- 
ral fundamental every notion depcndeth may, 
by symbolical adaptation, hold a ready way to 
read the characters of Morpheus. In dreams 
of such a nature, Artemidorus, Achmet, and 
Astrampsichus, from Greek, Egyptian, and 
Arabian oneiro-criticism, may hint some inter- 
pretation : who, while we read of a ladder in 
Jacob's dream, will tell us that ladders and 
scalary ascents signify preferment ; and while 
we consider the dream of Pharaoh, do teach 



ON DREAMS. 419 

us that livers overflowing speak plenty, lean 
oxen, famine and scarcity; and therefore it 
was but reasonable in Pharaoh to demand the 
interpretation from his magicians, who, being 
Egyptians, should have been well versed in 
symbols and the hieroglyphical notions of things. 
The greatest tyrant in such divinations was 
Nabuchodonosor, while, besides the interpre- 
tation, he demanded the dream itself; which 
being probably determined by divine immission, 
might escape the common road of phantasms, 
that might have been traced by Satan. 

When Alexander, going to besiege Tyre, 
dreamt of a Satyr, it was no hard exposition 
for a Grecian to say, " Tyre will be thine." 
He that dreamed that he saw his father washed 
by Jupiter and anointed by the sun, had cause 
to fear that he might be crucified, whereby his 
body would be washed by the rain, and drop 
by the heat of the sun. The dream of Ves- 
pasian was of harder exposition ; as also that 
of the Emperor Mauritius, concerning his suc- 
cessor Phocas. And a man might have been 
hard put to it to interpret the language of 
^sculapius, when to a consumptive person 
he held forth his fingers ; implying thereby 
that his cure lay in dates, from the homo- 
nomy of the Greek, which signifies dates and 
fingers. 



420 ON DREAMS. 

"We owe -anto dreams that Galen was a phy- 
sician, Dion an historian, and that the world 
hath seen some notable pieces of Cardan ; yet, 
he that should order his affairs by dreams, or 
make the night a rule unto the day, might be 
ridiculously deluded ; wherein Cicero is much 
to be pitied, who having excellently discoursed 
of the vanity of dreams, was yet undone by the 
flattery of his own, which urged him to apply 
himself unto Augustus. 

However dreams may be fallacious concern- 
ing outward events, yet may they be truly 
significant at home ; and whereby we may more 
sensibly understand ourselves. Men act in sleep 
with some conformity unto their awaked senses ; 
and consolations or discouragements may be 
drawn from dreams which intimately tell us 
ourselves. Luther was not like to fear a spirit 
in the night, when such an apparition would 
not terrify him in the day. Alexander would 
hardly have run away in the sharpest combats 
of sleep, nor Demosthenes have stood stoutly 
to it, who was scarce able to do it in his pre- 
pared senses. 

Persons of radical integrity will not easily be 
pers'ertcd in their dreams, nor noble minds 
do pitiful things in sleep. Crassus would have 
hardly been bountiful in a dream, w^hose fist 
was so close awake. But a man might have 



ON DREAMS. 421 

lived all his life upon the sleeping hand of An- 
tonius.* 

There is an art to make dreams, as well as 
their interpretations ; and physicians will tell 
us that some food makes turbulent, some gives 
quiet dreams. Cato, who doated upon cab- 
bage, might find the crude effects thereof in his 
sleep ; wherein the Egyptians might find some 
advantage by their superstitious abstinence from 
onions. Pythagoras might have [had] calmer 
sleeps, if he [had] totally abstained from beans. 
Even Daniel, the gi-eat interpreter of dreams, 
in his leguminous diet seems to have chosen 
no advantageous food for quiet sleeps, accord- 
ing to Grecian physic. 

To add unto the delusion of dreams, the 
fantastical objects seem greater than they are ; 
and being beheld in the vaporous state of sleep, 
enlarge their diameters unto us ; whereby it 
may prove more easy to dream of giants than 
pigmies. Democritus might seldom dream of 
atoms, who so often thought of them. He 
almost micrht dream himself a bubble extendino- 
unto the eighth sphere. A little water makes 
a sea ; a small puff of wind a tempest. A grain 
of sulphur kindled in the blood may make a 

* sleeping hand of Antonius.'] "Who awake "was open-handed 
and liberal, in contrast with the close-Jistedness of Crassus, and 
therefore would have been munificent in his dreams. 



422 ON DREAMS. 

flame like ^tna ; and a small spark in the 
bowels of Olympias a lightning over all the 
chamber. 

But, beside these innocent delusions, there 
is a sinful state of dreams. Death alone, not 
sleep, is able to put an end unto sin ; and there 
may be a night-book of our iniquities ; for beside 
the transgressions of the day, casuists will tell 
us of mortal sins in dreams, arising from evil 
precogitations ; meanwhile human law regards 
not noctambulos ; and if a night-walker should 
break his neck, or kill a man, takes no notice 
of it. 

Dionysius was absurdly tyrannical to kill a 
man for dreaming that he had killed him ; and 
really to take away his life, who had but fm- 
tastically taken away his. Lamia was ridicu- 
lously unjust to sue a young man for a reward, 
who had confessed that pleasure from her in a 
dream which she had denied unto his awaking 
senses : conceivino; that she had merited some- 
what from his fantastical fruition and shadow 
of herself. If there be such debts, we owe 
deeply unto sympathies ; but the common spirit 
of the world must be ready in such arrearages. 

If some have swooned, they may have also 
died in dreams, since death is but a confirmed 
swooning. Whether Plato died in a dream, 
as some deliver, he must rise again to inform 



ON DREAMS. 



423 



us. Tliat some have never dreamed is as im- 
probable as that some have never laughed. 
That children dream not the first half-year; 
that men dream not in some countries, with 
many more, are unto me sick men's dreams ; 
dreams out of the ivory gate,* and visions be- 
fore midnight. 

* the ivory gateJ] The poets suppose two gates of sleep, the 
one of horn, from which true dreams proceed ; the other of ivory, 
which sends forth false dreams. 






Letters. 

To his Sony a Lieutenant of his Majesty's 
ship the Marie Rose, at Portsmouth. 

[May or June, 1667.] 

EAR SONNE, — I am very glad 
you are returned from the strayglits 
mouth once more in health and 
^'■^' safetie. God contmue his mercifull 
pro\adence over you. I hope you maintaine a 
thankful heart and daylie bless him for your 
great deliverances in so many fights and dan- 
gers of the sea, whereto you have been exposed 
upon several seas, and in all seasons of the 
yeare. When you first under tooke this service, 
you cannot butt remember that I caused you to 
read the description of all the sea fights of note, 
in Plutark, the Turkish history, and others ; 
and Avithall gave you the description of fortitude 
left by Aristotle, " Fortitudinis est inconcussum 
Bvo-ttXtjktov a mortis metu et constantem in 



LETTERS. 425 

malis et intrepidum ad pericula esse, et malle 
lionestd mori quam turpiter servari et victorige 
causam pr^estare. Praeterea autem fortitudinis 
est laborare et tolerare. Accedit autem fortitu- 
dini audacia et animi praestantia et fiducia, et 
confidentia, ad haec industria et tolerantia." 
That which I then proposed for your example, 
I now send you for your commendation. For, 
to give you your due, in the whole cours of 
this warre, both in fights and other sea affairs, 
hazards and perills, you have very well fullfilled 
this character in yourself. And allthough you 
bee not forward in commending yourself, yett 
others have not been backward to do it for you, 
and have so earnestly expressed your courage, 
valour, and resolution ; your sober, studious, 
and observing cours of life ; your generous and 
obliging disposition, and the notable knowledge 
you have obtayned in military and all kind of 
sea affayres, that it affoordeth no small comfort 
unto mee. And I would by no meanes omitt 
to declare the same unto yourself, that you 
may not want that encouragement which you 
so well deserve. They that do well need not 
Qcommend themselves ; others will be readie 
enough to do it for them. And because you 
may understand how well I have heard of you, 
I would not omitt to communicate this unto 
you. Mr. Scudamore, your sober and learned 



426 LETTERS. 

chaplaine, in your voyage T\'itli Sir Jeremie 
Smitli, gives you no small commendations for 
a sober, studious, courageous, and diligent per- 
son ; that he had not met with any of the fleet 
like you, so civill, observing, and diligent to 
your charge, with the reputation and love of 
all the shippe ; and that without doubt you 
would make a famous man, and a reputation 
to vour country. Captain Fenne, a meere 
rough seaman, sayd that if hee were to choose, 
hee would have your company before any he 
knewe. ^Ir. W. B. of Lpm, a stout volunteer 
in the Dreadnought, sayd, in my hearing, that 
you were a deservmg person, and of as good 
a reputation as any young man in the fleet. 
Another, who was with you at Schellinck's, 
highly commended your sobrietie, carefullnesse, 
undaunted and lasting courage through all the 
cours of the warre ; that you had acquired no 
small knowledge in navigation, as well as the 
mihtary part. That you understood every thing 
that belonged unto a shippe ; and had been 
so strict and criticall an observer of the shipps 
in the fleet, that you could name any shippe 
sayUng at some distance ; and by some private 
mark and observation which you had made, 
would hardly mistake one, if seventie shippes 
should sayle at a reasonable distance by you. 
You are much obliged to Sir Thomas Allen, 



LETTERS. 427 

who upon all occasions speakes liiglily of you ; * 
and is to be held to the fleet by encouragement 
and preferment : for I would not have him 
leave the sea, which otherwise probably he 
might, having parts to make himself consider- 
able by divers other wayes. Mr. I. told mee 
you were compleately constituted to do your 
country service, honour, and reputation, as be- 
ing exceeding faythfull, valiant, diligent, gen- 
erous, vigilant, observing, very knowing, and 
a scholar. How you behaved yourself in the 
Foresight, at the hard service at Bergen, in 
Norway, captain Brookes, the commander, ex- 
pressed unto many before his death, not long 
after, in Suffolk ; and particularly unto my lord 
of Sandwich, then admiral, which thoughe you 
would not tell me yourself, yet Avas I informed 
from a person of no ordinaiy qualitie, C. Har- 
land, who when you came aboard the admiral 
after the taking of the East India shippes, heard 
my lord of Sandwich, to speak thus unto you. 
'' Sir, you are a person whom I am glad to 
see, and must be better acquainted with you, 
upon the account which captain Brooke gave 
mee of you. I must encourage such persons 
and give them their due, wliich will stand so 

* There is evidently some omission here, either in the original 
or the copy ; the following sentence appears to be Sir Thomas 
Allen's remark, the beginning of which is apparently wanting. 



428 LETTERS. 

firmely and courageously unto it upon extrem- 
ities, wherein true valour is best discovered. 
Hee told mee you were the only man that 
stuck closely and boldly to him unto the last, 
and that after so many of his men and his 
lieutenant was slayne, hee could not have well 
knoT\me what to have done without you." Butt 
beside these I must not fayle to tell you how 
well I like it, that you are not only Marti but 
Mercuric, and very much pleased to find how 
good a student you have been at sea, and 
particularly with what success you have read 
divers bookes there, especially Homer and Ju- 
venal with Lubines notes. Being much sur- 
prised to find you so perfect therein that you 
had them in a manner without booke, and 
could proceed in any verse I named unto you. 
I am glad you can overcome Lucan. The 
other bookes Avhicli I sent, are, I perceive, 
not hard unto you, and having such industrie 
adjoined unto your apprehension and memorie, 
you are like to proceed [not only] a noble 
na^^gator, butt a great schollar, which will be 
much to your honour and my satisfaction and 
content. I am much pleased to find that you 
take the drauo-hts of remarkable thinojs where 
ere you go ; for that may bee very usefull, 
and will fasten themselves the better in your 
memorie 



LETTERS. 429 

To his Daughter, Mrs, Lyttkton. 

Sept. 15, [1681.] 

DEARE BETTY, — Tho it were noe 
wonder this very tempestious and stormy- 
winter, yet I am sorry you had such an un- 
comfortable sight as to behold a ship cast away 
so neer you ; this is noe strange tho unwelcom 
sight at Yarmouth, Cromer, Winterton, and 
sea towns : tho you could not saue them, I 
hope they were the better for your prayers, 
both those that perishd and those that scapd. 
Some wear away in calmes, some are caried 
away in storms : we come into the world one 
way, there are many gates to goe out of it. 
God giue us grace to fit and prepare our selues 
for that necessity, and to be ready to leaue all 
when and how so ever he shall call. The prayers 
of health are most like to be acceptable ; sickness 
may choak our devotions, and we are accepted 
rather by our life then our death : we have a 
rule how to lead the one, the other is uncertain, 
and may come in a moment. God, I hope, 
will spare you to serve him long, who didst 

begin early to serve him Your self is not 

impatient, you will haue noe cause to be sad : 
giue no way unto melancholy, which is pui'ely 
sadnes without a reasonable cause 



Resolves. 




[Found in one of Sir Thomas Browne^s J 

CoMMONPLACE-BoOKS.] j 

O be sure that no day pass, with- j 

out calHng upon God in a solemn | 

formed prayer, seven times within J 

the compass thereof; that is, in the ; 

morning, and at night, and five times between ; < 

taken up long ago from the example of David j 
and Daniel, and a compunction and shame that 

I had omitted it so long, when I heedfully read , 

of the custom of the Mahometans to pray five \ 

times in the day. j 

! 

To pray and magnify God in the night, and ' 

my dark bed, when I could not sleep : to have ! 

short ejaculations whenever I awaked ; and when | 

the four-o'clock bell * awoke me, or my first dis- \ 

* A bell which tolls (or ought to toll, if the old sexton does • 

not oversleep himself) in pursuance of the will of a person who, i 

after wandering about for a considerable time on Mousehold I 



RESOLVES. 431 

covery of the light, to say the collect of our 
liturgy, Eternal God, who hath safely brought 
me to the beginning of this, day, &c. 

To pray in all places where privacy inviteth ; 
in any house, liighway, or street ; and to know 
no street or passage in this city which may not 
witness that I have not forgot God and my 
Saviour in it : and that no parish or town where 
I have been may not say the like. 

To take occasion of praying upon the sight 
of any church, which I see or pass by, as I ride 
about. 

Since the necessities of the sick, and una- 
voidable diversions of my profession, keep me 
often from church, yet to take all possible care 
that I might never miss sacraments upon their 
accustomed days. 

To pray daily and particularly for sick pa- 
tients, and in general for others, wheresoever, 
howsoever, and under whose care soever ; and 
at the entrance into the house of the sick, to 
say. The peace and mercy of God be m this 
place. 

Heath, having lost his way in a ■winter-night's storm, at length 
•was directed to the city by the tolling of a bell in the Church of 
St. Peter, Mancroft. the residence of Sir Thomas Browne. 



432 RESOLVES. 

After a sermon, to make a thanksgiving, and 
desire a blessing, and to pray for the minister. 

In tempestuous weather, hghtning, and thun- 
der, either night or day, to pray for God's 
merciful protection upon all men, and His mer- 
cy upon their souls, bodies, and goods. 

Upon sight of beautiful persons, to bless God in 
his creatures, to pray for the beauty of their 
souls, and to enrich them with inward 
graces to be answerable unto the out- 
ward. Upon sight of deformed 
persons, to send them inward 
graces, and enrich their 
souls, and give them 
the beauty of the 
resurrection. 




"'-:i 13 1862 



Cambridge : Ele«Jtrotipe4-*wl,jBlrifij!pd^ Welch, Bigelow, & Co. 










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